I remain, Yours
by Momatu
Summary: Bella is unexpectedly given an antique desk that once belonged to Edward, and in it she finds a letter he wrote to his cousin in 1918. She responds and sets them off on a journey neither could ever have expected. Perhaps there are some things we aren't meant to understand, just accept... Will eventually contain character death - NOT Edward or Bella.
1. Chapter 1

This story will eventually contain character death.

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Thank you to my two Project Team Beta betas, Barkleybear19 and thir13enth, for all their help and kind words.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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_Chicago, Ill_

_June 24, 1918_

_Dear Cousin, _

_I hope this finds you well. I fear not much here has changed since my last letter. My mother continues in worrying herself sick over my intention to enlist as soon as I am able and continues in her attempts to dissuade me. She has now begun a new tactic. I am afraid she is intent on marrying me off to the first girl who will have me, if you can believe that. She has apparently decided that if I had a wife, I would not be so eager to get myself killed. I wish she could understand, I have no wish to "get myself killed" as she says. Our country is at war, and it is my duty to defend her. I cannot hide behind my mother's skirts while others fight for our family's freedom. She has, in the past few weeks alone, presented me with no less than five eligible young ladies. I do not know how she expects I would provide for a wife having only just turned 17 and still in school. So far, we have had the new assistant district attorney with his family, the Martin's, and the Rollins' for dinner. I have also escorted two of her friends' daughters to the movies together with some friends. At least the movies were good. The girls, however, were silly, foolish things. Is it too much to ask to be able to carry on an intelligent, informed conversation? To hope for her to have an original or clever thought in her head? They were all pretty faces and empty heads. Young Miss Assistant District Attorney's Daughter seems to be the frontrunner in my mother's eyes, though I cannot see why. I have been informed I will be inviting her for a walk through the park, where I will buy her an ice cream I really must remember her name first._

_Thank you for your invitation to visit this summer; however, I am unable to accept. With school out, I have begun assisting my mother in her volunteer work with the Red Cross and at the hospital. There is really so much work to be done. She is now serving as secretary on the executive committee for the Chicago chapter and is instructing classes in home nursing. She recently worked a number of others in organizing a successful War Chest Auction. They visited every prominent family and business in Chicago and collected enough donations to net $2050 in sales for the benefit of the Red Cross. _

_There is a brilliant young doctor at the hospital named Dr. Cullen. Almost without fail, the patients treated by him fare far better than those treated by any other doctor, even those with many more years' experience. He is truly gifted and works tirelessly with the injured soldiers. The man seems to never rest. Between his work at the hospital and his volunteer work with the Red Cross, I don't know how he finds time to eat and sleep. All the nurses are half in love, half afraid of him. I have spoken with him of my intention to become a doctor after the war, and he has been so kind as to lend me some of his medical texts. He has even gone so far as to talk to me of some of his cases and explain to me their treatments._

_My father and I attended the White Sox game on my birthday. It was a good game. We beat Cleveland 5 - 4. Ray Schalk was hit by a pitch in the 3rd and stole second; Nemo Leibold singled and brought him in. Eddie Collins hit one out to make it 3 - 0. Cleveland scored in the 5th and 7th and took the lead 4 - 3. After already scoring two in the 7th, Cleveland had the bases loaded with no one out, but Dave Danforth struck out Ray Chapman and got Steve O'Neill to hit into a double play. We scored two in the 9th to win it. _

_I am glad we were able to attend the game, because it is unlikely my father will have much time for baseball in the coming months. His office is the very busy with a new case. Have you seen it in the papers? I am sure you must have. It is the biggest news in town as of late. The police arrested four people two days ago, and over one hundred waiters were taken into custody. They say they'd been poisoning drinks of people who tipped poorly. The four arrested were a man and wife charged with manufacturing the powder used and two bartenders for selling the powder at the bar of the waiters' union headquarters. _

_Well, I must close. I hope you are all well and happy. I remain,_

_Your Cousin,_

_Edward Masen_

"Edward, dear, may I come in?"

Edward tensed; he looked up from the letter he had just written to his cousin, Mic, and saw his mother standing in his doorway. Elizabeth Masen had copper hair and green eyes, both of which her son had inherited from her. She was a thin, petite woman, which combined with her fair skin gave an initial impression of frailty. It was an entirely false impression, as Edward well knew. His mother was the strongest woman he had ever known; indeed, she was stronger than many men he knew. After her own mother's early death, she had been largely responsible for raising her four younger siblings and had gone on to become a hospital nurse. No, his mother was anything but frail. As he looked at her, he could not help but notice the worried look in her eyes that seemed ever present since he told his parents of his intention to enlist in the military. He hated being the reason for that look.

He answered as he put his pen and ink away, and she came in, sitting on the window seat beneath the bay window. Anyone who did not know her well would likely not notice, but Edward could see the fear in her, and he knew that fear was for him. He could see the smile that did not reach her eyes, eyes that were faintly rimmed with red. He could see that her back was a little too straight, as if her body wanted to slump forward in exhaustion but she was stubbornly refusing to give in. He could see the hands folded on her lap that were gripping her handkerchief so tightly her knuckles were white, the handkerchief bearing a small tear. He sighed; she was once again going to attempt to persuade him to reconsider enlisting.

"Mother, please don't. I am quite determined. I have not made this decision lightly, and I am very aware of the danger. Please try to understand. Our country is at war, and I have a duty to defend her, just as my grandfathers did before me. I remember the stories they told me, and I have spoken with several of the wounded men at the hospital regarding their experiences. I am not romanticizing."

Elizabeth looked at her only child and words deserted her. She had known what he would say. Yes, she knew what he would say, and she was prepared for it. She was not the wife of a very prominent, successful attorney for nothing. She had learned much from her husband in the nearly twenty years of their marriage. She had listened to her husband perfect his opening statements and had heard him deliver such eloquent, compelling closing statements that she believed he could persuade any jury in the world that up was down and black was white. She had listened, and she had learned. Elizabeth had gone over what she would say, even going so far as to rehearse in front of the mirror in her room. She had planned to make her argument against his decision calmly and rationally, having carefully thought out answers to every point she knew he would make, but now as she sat here before him, she could not remember a single word of it. All she could think of were the men returning from the war he was so eager to fight in. All she could see were their broken, crippled bodies, and every one of them now bore her son's face. She could feel the tears swelling behind her eyes, but she would not let them fall. Edward was just like his father: logical and determined. She needed to be equally logical and equally determined. Tears would not sway him. On the contrary, she knew they would hurt her case. If she let them fall, he would not truly listen to her but simply dismiss her words as merely those of a distraught mother desperate to keep her son safe. She needed to make him see reason.

She squared her shoulders, and if that failed, she was not above drugging him and keeping him locked in his room until the horrible war was over.

Elizabeth Masen looked at her son, took a deep breath, and steeled herself. "I invited Dr. Cullen to dine with us tonight, but he wasn't able. He is working yet another extra shift at the hospital. They have lost so many doctors and nurses to the war, those remaining are barely able to keep up. He works the night shift, but I believe he is there most days as well. He told me again how invaluable your help has been. There are many women volunteers, but to have a young man is a wonderful thing. The men need another man to talk to, a confidant. He seems to have taken a genuine interest in you. You are very fortunate. He is thought of very highly at the hospital, and his recommendation will be very helpful when you apply to medical school." She relaxed slightly as she finished the speech she had planned. All in all, Elizabeth was pleased with her delivery, and she had touched on the topics she wanted to drive home to her son - Point out to him that help is needed _here_. He can serve his country by staying _here_ and becoming a doctor as he'd always planned.

Edward smiled fondly at his mother. He hoped his cheeks had not grown pink at her praise. "My help at the hospital is hardly invaluable, mother, unlike yours. I am seventeen and untrained. I can do little more than follow orders and run errands."

Elizabeth continued, "You do not understand the value of someone who can be counted on to follow orders and run errands, Edward. Your doing so enables those who are trained to work where their skills are needed, rather than running those errands themselves. You would be amazed at the number of people who are completely incapable of following even the simplest of instructions, especially with regard to poor Dr. Cullen. Why, I have seen intelligent, skilled, experienced nurses forget what they were saying half way through a sentence when speaking to him. I cannot comprehend it."

Edward was much more relaxed now; he was almost laughing. "Dr. Cullen is very rich, very handsome, and very single. I am sure that has something to do with it. I think it was very kind of you to invite him. As highly regarded as he is, he does not seem to have any friends at the hospital. It almost seems as if people are afraid of him, though I cannot see why."

Smiling faintly, Elizabeth thought to herself that this was going even better than she had hoped it would. They were talking. She knew how much Edward admired the young doctor and how much his apparent regard meant to her son. Rather than try to deter him from military enlistment, she would need to remind him of his first love, medicine. She had always felt that Edward was born to be a doctor. He had endless patience for the sick and injured combined with a natural compassion for those in pain and afraid that could not be taught. He was very bright, among the top of his class, and had a thirst for knowledge that was insatiable. She had been a fool to think a young lady would suddenly interest him enough to change his mind. It was a foolishness inspired by blind panic. Edward came from a long line of soldiers. Both of his grandfathers had fought in the Civil War, and his father had served in the military as well, though fortunately before the war with Spain. He had been raised since the cradle to understand the duty one had to one's country. She understood the necessity of fighting and supported the war effort in any way she could. She volunteered her time with the Red Cross helping the returning wounded, whether they be wounded physically or be suffering from shell shock. She visited with the families of men serving and and assisted those of men who were lost. Yes, she would do her part, but she would not sacrifice her son.

Elizabeth persuaded herself to believe Edward would be of greater service to his country as a doctor, who could devote a lifetime to serving those soldiers injured during the war rather than as a soldier himself. What difference could one more soldier make compared to one more doctor? Now, she just needed to persuade him.

"Most people are more easily intimidated than even they themselves realize. Their confidence in their own abilities is too easily shaken by someone more skilled than themselves. Even more so when that person is younger than themselves, and as you pointed out, very rich and very handsome. You are not one who is easily intimidated—you never have been—so I do not wonder that you cannot understand it. Dr. Cullen is almost too good to be true. Too good, I fear, for his own good."

Edward looked at his mother, "What do you mean, too good for his own good?"

Elizabeth answered him, "I fear Dr. Cullen is so dedicated to his profession, so committed to helping his patients, that he neglects to take care of himself. Why, just look at the man. He is as pale as a ghost. He looks so tired sometimes, as if he never sleeps. There have been days I have seen him so engrossed in his work, I believe he has simply forgotten to eat. I have asked him on more than one occasion if he had eaten yet, and he has seemed almost surprised. I do not know whether the surprise was due to his not having noticed the hour or due to someone's noticing he had not yet eaten. I admit, I am concerned for him. He has no family of his own: no parents, no siblings, and as you have stated, no close friends."

Edward was not surprised that his mother had noticed these things about Dr. Cullen. She had always noticed things about people that others had not, another trait he had inherited from her. Before he could answer her, she spoke again as she rose. "Don't let me keep you, dearest. I only wanted to tell you that dinner will be served soon. Your father telephoned earlier. He will be home to dine with us tonight. I don't expect that will often be the case until this retched trial is over, which will not likely be for quite some time. I am glad you and he enjoyed a ball game on your birthday. I am afraid there won't be many ball games this summer. My word, poisoning people because they did not tip generously enough. What is this world coming to? I will let you get back to your letter. To whom are you writing?"

Edward rose from his desk as his mother walked to his door. "To cousin Mic, but I've finished. I will be down in a moment."

As his mother left his room, Edward sat back down at his desk and shook his head, smiling. His mother was the only person who could always surprise him. He had been so certain she had come to speak to him solely to once again try to convince him not to enlist once he turned eighteen next June. He hoped she had finally accepted his decision, but he knew her well enough to know that she had not yet given up hope of dissuading him. Edward laughed to himself. This was a lull in the battle, but he had not yet won the war.

Sitting at his desk, Edward was reminded of his Grandfather Masen. It had now been six years since he had passed, and Edward still missed him terribly. Sometimes, he almost felt that if he closed his eyes and really listened, he could still hear his voice. Having previously belonged to his grandfather, Edward's desk was his most prized possession. Made of mahogany with a beautiful green embossed leather writing surface, it appeared to have nine drawers with brass swan neck handles, four on either side and one long, shallow drawer across the middle. However, what appeared to be the bottom two drawers on both sides was in fact one double depth drawer. As a child, Edward had been mesmerized by his grandfather and the stories he told. He remembered his grandfather showing him the desk's hidden secret as a child. It contained a hidden compartment, and they would draw secret treasure maps and hide them there. It was childish Edward knew, but he continued their game even now, after a fashion, by hiding any letters he wrote in there before posting them. As he did so now, he thought of both of his grandfathers and hoped they would be proud of the man he was becoming and of the choices he was making for his life.

Rising from his desk, Edward went down to dinner. His mother was where he knew she would be, in her sitting room with her knitting all around her busily making warm clothing to be sent to the men fighting in Europe. He smiled at her as he walked passed and opened the pocket doors to the music room next door.

"Oh, that would be lovely, Edward. Your music always makes my work seem to go faster."

"What would you like, mother? Debussy?"

"Please, Edward. You know he is my favorite. Such a tragic loss, his passing. Though one suffers so terribly with _illness _that perhaps for the poor man, it was a blessing."

Edward stood at his piano trying to keep his laughter silent and his shoulders still. The way his mother would always look away and say _illness_ when discussing someone with cancer, as if daring to say the word aloud would cause it to spread, would never ceased to amaze him. Elizabeth Masen could nurse a man missing limbs that had been blown or ripped off in battle, bandage any wound, dress the most severe burns, but she refused to say a simple work like "cancer". And really, _the poor man_, indeed. It was well known that as a young man, Claude Debussy had begun an affair with a married woman and had lived with another woman out of wedlock for several years while being briefly engaged to still another woman. He later married but began an affair with the mother of one of his students and abandoned his wife for his mistress, who was _with child_. And that was only what was known. How much more had he done that was unknown? His mother would never have a man such as Claude Debussy in her home, but as he is now dead, she calls him "poor man". Even during his lifetime, Debussy knew little censor for his conduct until the attempted suicide of the wife he abandoned. Edward understood that he was only seventeen and not at all worldly, but he felt strongly that if he lived another hundred years, he would never understand society's willingness to forgive artists for sins that in anyone else would be unpardonable.

As he sat at his piano and began playing, he admitted to himself that he was no better than society as a whole. He held no respect for Debussy as a fellow man, but he respected his talent greatly.

He had been playing for some time when they heard their maid opening the door for his father. His father soon entered the room, and Edward and his mother rose to greet him.

"Now, this is what a man likes to arrive home to. If every man would have such a scene greet him at the end of the day I believe there would be much less work for men like myself. Elizabeth, my dear. Industrious as ever, I see. Edward, please keep playing, my boy. Your playing is soothing after a trying day."

Edward sat back down and began playing again. He knew this new case was especially trying for his father. Having prosecuted many difficult cases in the past, such as murders and kidnappers, he had seen the worst of humanity for far too long, but Edward knew this case was different. Always before, there was a motive to the crime; there was always a reason. Money, hatred, jealousy, revenge, violence whether brought on by rage or drunkenness or sheer cruelty... Whatever the reason had been, there _had always been _a reason. This case was different, though. There was no valid reason. Edward supposed reasons were very rarely valid to anyone other than the culprit himself, but this was truly incomprehensible. Over one hundred people had been perfectly willing to poison countless others, slipping Mickey Finn powder into their drinks, for something as trivial as how much they left as a tip. It was indefensible, the blatant disregard for the harm they might have caused. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had not killed anyone. Edward strongly believed such people had no place in society, and he was very proud of his father's commitment to protecting the innocent by prosecuting them to the full extent of the law.

He continued to play some minutes longer until dinner was announced, and they went into the dining room together.

After dinner, they spent the evening together with Edward and his father playing a game of chess while his mother continued her knitting. It was quiet times like this, just the three of them at home safe and secure, that Edward most thought about what it must be like for the men serving in Europe and their families at home. He looked up at his father, contemplating his next move, and his mother, quietly humming to herself as she knitted a warm sweater for a man she would never know. He worried what it would be like for them after he left. Instead of quietly humming, would his mother cry while she worked, worrying for him? Was he safe... cold... hungry... Was he injured? Was he still alive? Would his father sit at this same table, staring at the chess board and his empty chair? Would they worry each time the telephone rang or someone knocked on the door?

Edward wished more than ever that he had siblings. They had a large extended family and several close friends, but that would not be the same as if they had other children of their own to keep them busy and occupied, to keep them distracted from thinking of nothing but their worry for him. He sighed to himself. It was no good to dwell on things that could not be changed. Other families were facing these same things. Some were calling this The War to End All Wars. By all that is holy, Edward hoped they were right. Poison gases, aeroplane fights, submarines attacking passenger vessels, it seemed there was no limit to what man could create to kill other men. Never before had the world faced a situation like this; the entire world was at war. They needed to end this and ensure it would never happen again. They needed to ensure that no other generation would ever again have to face this.

It had been a hot, sticky day that had started bright and sunny but had grown increasingly cloudy. The sky quickly grew quite dark, and they had already turned on the electric light before his father had returned from work. Now the wind had picked up, and they could hear thunder in the distance. Edward's mother looked up from her knitting at the first crash of thunder.

"We appear to be in for quite a storm tonight. That wind is terrible." She began putting her knitting away and rose. "Edward, dearest, I would like to arrive at the hospital early tomorrow. Does that sound all right to you?"

Edward looked up from the chess board. "Yes, Mother, that is fine. Old Mr. Robards is expecting a shipment of comfort items from the Rockford Chapter tomorrow. I promised to go with him to pick them up at the station. He said he would come fetch me at the hospital."

Picking up her knitting bag, Elizabeth walked over to her husband and son and kissed them both lightly on the temple as she wished them both good night.

Now alone, Edward and his father were able to speak freely. Edward was taking his father's bishop when his father spoke, "Mr. Wilson heard from his son, Matthew. At the front. Somewhere in France. Can't say where. He said that they had been shot at very heavily by the Germans the night before. Shrapnel falling all around them. Gas alarm was given. He said they had to get their masks on in a right hurry. Said those masks have saved their lives many times. Said Fritz shoots gas at them quite often, and he can get his mask on in five seconds." His father was determinedly looking everywhere but at him as he spoke. Edward had heard his father preparing arguments for a trial many times and knew what an eloquent speaker his father was. To hear him speak now, unable to speak in full sentences, unable to look at him, he knew just how afraid his father was.

Edward addressed his father, "I received a letter from Albert Fletcher today. Do you remember Albert? He was ahead of me in school, a senior when I was a freshman. He was on the baseball team with me and is a cousin to the Collins'. He's only just shipped out. He wrote that his ship arrived safely. They had fine weather and a mild sea, and he was not a bit sea sick. He asked that I tell all our friends to write to him. A word from home goes well there he said."

Edward and his father were very evenly matched at chess. He watched the board as his father moved his rook and thought how much life was like a chess game, with his parents on one side of the board and himself on the other. They make their move, and he counters.

"Yes, I believe Mrs. Wilson writes almost daily and sends parcels often. You should write your friend right away. Send a newspaper. Mr. Wilson has said Matthew has written that all the boys are cheered with papers from home. Pass them around after they finish reading them, they do."

Edward looked again at his father, who was still not looking at him. "I will do that." He looked back down at the board; his father had made a mistake. He could put him in check. He moved his queen across the board. "Check."

His father started and looked at the board. "I did not see that. Good move, my boy. Well played." His father studied the board for a few moments before moving his remaining bishop to protect his king. "I forgot to mention it to your mother, Frank Carrington's wife and daughter came by the office today. They've invited us to dine with them on Friday."

Edward thought to himself, _"Oh, marvelous. Miss New District Attorney's Daughter."_ Out loud he said, "I'm sure that will be nice. Mother said they have been discussing a possible dance to raise funds. The War Chest Auction was so successful; they have been looking for something to follow it up. I believe she said they are considering a harvest theme for the fall. Perhaps Mrs. Carrington and Violet would be interested in assisting with the plans." _"Violet!"_ Yes, that was the girl's name. Edward was very proud of himself for remembering and laughed to himself, _"How could I have forgotten? Mother is so fond of Vi-O-Let LifeSaver candies, no wonder she is partial to the girl." _

His father's mind was clearly no longer on their game, and Edward soon had him in checkmate. His father looked at him, possibly for the first time since dinner, and congratulated him on his game.

Edward smiled as he put the pieces away, "Thank you Father, I had a very good teacher."

His father acknowledged the complement; he had been the one to teach his son chess. He had taught his son to catch a ball and to throw... to ride a bike... to drive. He had taught his son pride and respect and duty. Edward, Sr. was very proud of his son. He had hoped Edward would follow in his footsteps and study law, but anyone could see he was meant to be a doctor. He understood his son's desire to enlist and fight for his country, and he respected him all the more for it. It was himself he was disappointed in. So many people he knew had boys fighting over there. So many of those boys he had known since they were in knickers. Too many of those boys would never return home. Every time he learned of another boy killed, another boy crippled for life, even as he expressed his sympathy, his head was filled with, _"Thank God, it's not my son. Thank God, my boy, my Edward, is safe." _

Edward Masen, Sr. found that now that he had looked at his son, he could not make himself look away. "Edward – "

Putting the chess board and pieces away in the closet when his father called his name, Edward turned to answer him, "Yes, father?"

He wanted to tell his son not to enlist. He wanted to tell him to leave the fighting to someone else. He wanted to tell him so many things. In the end, he said none of it. "It's late, son, and I'm tired. I am going to retire for the night."

"Good night father, I will see you in the morning. I am going to retire as well."

"Good night, Edward." As Edward, Sr. turned and climbed the stairs tiredly, his only thought was, "_God, let this miserable war end soon."_

Edward entered his room and sat at his desk. He had thought of something else he wanted to tell Mic and wanted to add it to his letter. He opened the hidden compartment, but his letter was not there. Had he not put it there? No, he had. He was sure he had. It was his habit. Always when he wrote letters, he put them there, if he didn't post them immediately. And he clearly remembered putting it there. Yet, it was not there. Well, he must be mistaken he rationalized; he must have mislaid it. That was all. He looked in all the drawers and on the floor all around his desk, but it was not there. Nor was it in the waste paper basket. He thought it might have slid down behind the desk and was stuck between the desk and the wall, but it was not there either. This was ridiculous. He could not think what he could have done with the letter.

"Oh well, no matter," Edward told himself. "It has to be here somewhere." He would look again tomorrow.

After all, it was not as if his letter could have vanished.

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This story is completely written and 50 chapters, about 380,000 words. It took over a year to write. I read a lot of letters written by WW1 soldiers to try to get the right expressions and wording.

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This may remind you of the "The Lake House" with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves, at least at first, but I actually got the idea from a made for TV movie from about 15-20 years ago, "The Love Letter."

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I tried to be as historically accurate as possible in an everyday way. The War Chest Auction Edward mentions was really held and did net (a whooping) $2050. The baseball game Edward describes is the real game the White Sox played on June 20, 1918, and the case his father is working on was a real case in Chicago that June. The description of the life of Claude Debussy is from Wikipedia. And yes, Life Savers did once come in violet flavor, as well as chocolate, licorice, cinnamon... and _clove_. (Ewww!)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Thank you to this chapter's two Project Team Beta betas, Lupin4Tonks and MissAnnBlack!

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Bella was lying on her bed, curled up on her side, and staring at the wall. She had stopped crying, but she knew her eyes would still be red and puffy. Stupid cheerleaders. Stupid cheerleaders with their stupid pom poms and their stupid short skirts. Stupid boys who like stupid cheerleaders. Stupid Valentine's Day. Taking a deep breath, she sat up and looked over at the clock on her night stand. It was 4:12 P. M., which meant she had been lying here for over an hour. This was unlike her. It was ridiculous, she told herself. She was not the type of girl to curl up and cry over a boy. Annoyed with herself and pulling herself together, Bella got up, and looked at herself in her mirror. "Get over it, Bella. He doesn't like you. You thought he did, but he doesn't. He is taking Brittney Logan to Mirelli's on Valentine's Day. Forget him, and get over it. He's not worth it."

Leaving her room, Bella went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face before going to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Her mother, Renee, had meetings after work today but would be home soon, and if she didn't have dinner started before then, her mother might try to make something, which would not be good. Bella loved her mother, but her cooking was something to be avoided at all costs. After rooting around in the fridge, she decided on tortellini with olive oil and garlic. It would be easy and quick, which was exactly what she needed. After gathering everything she needed and putting the water on to boil, she added some baby spinach and mushrooms to sauté with the garlic, and was just straining the tortellini when her mother pulled in the driveway.

Bella ducked back into the bathroom quickly to check her eyes. Thankfully, the redness had faded. She really, really did not want to deal with questions as to why she'd been crying. She walked back into the kitchen and said hello to her mother.

"Hey, baby. How was your day? Did you get your grade back on your history project?" Renee asked as she set her purse and keys down.

Bella went to the sink to rinse the pasta, keeping her back to her mother; she did not want to have to face her while they talked about the project she'd worked on with Jason.

"Yeah, got an A."

"An A! That's my girl! Smells wonderful, baby. I asked Phil to join us for dinner. I hope you don't mind; I should have called. Is there enough for three? He should be here soon. After dinner, how about we go out for ice cream to celebrate your A? Why don't you call Jason and have him join us?"

Bella stiffened when her mother mentioned Jason's name. _Call Jason? Not freakin' likely._ She needed to get her mother's mind off Jason, and she knew the best way to do that.

"There's plenty for three. Can you get the Parmesan from the fridge? So, Phil? You really like him, huh? You seem pretty serious about him. I hope you're being careful. Are you using protection?"

Her mother had no problem being blunt about safe sex when she warned _her_ to be careful, but Bella knew she could dish it out but not take it, and true to form, her mother was barely able to form a sentence.

"Bella! That... I... We... You... That's none of your business!"

_There, mission accomplished. One mother, completely distracted._

Bella smirked and turned to face her mother. "It's very much my business if I end up with a baby brother or sister. A brother might be nice, but I don't think we could handle another girl in the house. Phil could teach him to play baseball. I'm sure he'd like that."

"He would like that. A little boy would be nice. We could buy him a tiny little mitt and a tiny little baseball cap. Tiny little onesies with tiny little baseballs."

Bella was shocked to the core at the look that came onto her mother's face. It was a dreamy, far off look. She felt as if the bones in her legs had suddenly vanished, and she practically fell into the nearest chair. Her mother couldn't be saying what she thought she was saying. There was just no possible way. Well, of course there was a way, but no, it couldn't be. She'd had the need to always be careful, to always use protection drilled into her head for so long, Bella was tired of hearing it already. For Pete's sake, she'd never even had a boyfriend! Her mother couldn't be pregnant. She _couldn't _be. Bella was only sixteen; she had enough to manage with taking care of her mother and school. She could not add a baby to the list. And her mother was thirty-six. Didn't that mean there would be risks? She didn't know much about having a baby, but she knew she'd heard the risk of problems increases after thirty-five.

Bella forced herself to speak but had no idea what to say, "Mom…"

Renee looked over at her daughter and took in the expression on Bella's face, which while normally pale had gone bone white.

"Bella! Baby, what is it? What's wrong? Do you feel all right?"

"I… I'm fine. Mom, what… Are you… Are you pregnant?"

"Pregnant!? Bella, why would you... oh... Oh, honey, no. I'm very definitely not pregnant."

Bella slumped against the table in relief. She rambled, "I thought… you said… you said a little boy would be nice, and the look on your face, and the way you said it, and I thought, and you do seem really serious about Phil, and I thought…."

Her mother pulled a chair over next to her and sat down, taking Bella's hand in hers. "Bella, honey, I do need to talk to you about Phil. Baby, I love him. I really do. He's wonderful. He's kind... and generous... and smart... and funny... and you do like him, don't you? I know he's a little younger than me, but honey, he makes me so happy."

Bella sat up and looked at her mother. She knew Phil made her happy, but really, _a little younger_? The man was what? Twenty-three? "Yeah, Mom. I like Phil just fine. You know that. He's great."

Her mother looked relieved and took a deep breath; she looked like she was bracing herself for something. "Bella, baby, I asked Phil to come over tonight for a reason." Another deep breath. "He asked me to marry him, and, sweetheart, I said yes."

Through the absolute silence that followed her mother's news, Bella heard a strange ticking sound and realized it was the ticking of the clock on the wall. The _living room_ wall. Married? _Married?_ Her mother wanted to _marry_ Phil. They wanted to get _married_. This was... unexpected, to say the least. Her scatterbrained, eccentric, free spirit mother wanted to get _married_.

Bella looked at her mother again, saw the hope in her eyes, and realized her mother was afraid she would not approve. _Of course, _she approved. She was surprised, but she wasn't upset. Phil really was a great guy, and she knew they loved each other. Besides, Bella was sixteen already; she wouldn't be here to take care of her mother forever. She jumped up and hugged her mother. "Mom! That's great! When? When did he ask? How did he ask? Have you set a date? Did he give you a ring?"

The two were still talking and laughing in the kitchen when Phil pulled up a few minutes later. Bella hugged and congratulated him, and she could see he was relieved she was happy for them too.

Really, did they think she was going to freak out and try to forbid it or something?

They sat down to dinner and talked about the wedding. No firm date had been set, but it would have to be after baseball season. Phil was a professional baseball player. He was in the minors, but hoped he'd be called up soon. He wanted Renee to pick out her own ring, and they made plans to go looking soon. They talked about moving, but Renee and Bella really liked their house. It was small but would be big enough for three, so Phil would move in there.

After they finished eating, her mom and Phil cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. Bella made up an excuse and went to her room to give them a few minutes privacy. She closed the door, but she could still hear them talking and laughing. They sounded so happy together. She looked around her room for something to do for a few minutes. There wasn't enough time to start her homework, but she could start looking over her Spanish vocabulary for her test tomorrow and finish studying for it when they got back. She sat down on her bed and reached over to her nightstand to get her Spanish notebook.

Next to the notebook was a picture of her dad.

_ Dad... Oh God, Dad._

She was going to have to call her father and tell him her mom was getting remarried. Bella absolutely could not let her mom tell him; she couldn't do that to him.

Her mother had left her father while she was still practically a baby. Her parents had met in Seattle, and the two of them were polar opposites in every way. Her dad lived in a small town in Washington called Forks that could not be more different from Phoenix if it was on a different planet. He was a rookie police officer at the time and was attending a training, and her mother had just graduated high school and was in one of her phases. She'd wanted to travel and see the country before starting college. She'd told Bella she'd just closed her eyes and pointed at the map, and when she opened her eyes, she was pointing at Seattle. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance, and within months of meeting they were married. A little over a year later, Bella was born, and about a year after that, her mother left, telling her father that she couldn't live trapped, stuck in a small town like Forks as she packed hers and Bella's things.

Opposites may attract, but a marriage takes more than attraction.

If Bella was honest, she was really much more like her father than her mother. Her mother was always trying some new hobby, but the hobbies never lasted. There had been pottery, yoga, painting, dance, tennis, and at least a dozen other things. Right now, it was antiquing. That one at least Bella shared some interest in.

Her father fished. He'd had the same friends all his life and still lived in the same small two bedroom house they'd bought together in the early, naively happy days of their marriage. He ate at the same diner almost every night_–_probably at the same table–he worked, and he fished. And he watched sports on TV. Any sport would do, but baseball was his favorite.

Bella loved both her parents, but she understood her father better, even if she only saw him twice a year. She knew he had never gotten over her mother, and this news would be hard on him. Her mother had had several boyfriends over the years, but nothing serious. Until now.

She could still hear her mother and Phil in the kitchen, and Bella wondered if her mother and father ever sounded like that. She would have to call him as soon as they got back. At least she'd have some time to think of what to say. So lost in thought about her dad was she that she jumped when her mom knocked on her door.

"Bella, honey, are you ready to go? Harold's sound good to you?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm ready. Harold's is great." She grabbed her purse, and with one more look at her dad's picture, Bella walked out of the room.

An hour later they arrived back home, and Bella went to her room to make the dreaded phone call. She had watched her mom and Phil at Harold's and thought about her dad the whole time. Had he looked that happy once?

Bella sighed. It was getting late, and there was no sense putting it off. It had to be done.

She couldn't hear her mom and Phil talking anymore and took that as a pretty good indication she wouldn't be interrupted any time soon.

_ Oh, Ew..._

Bella made herself think about the phone call and nothing but the phone call. She got her cell phone out of her purse and dialed her dad's number, half hoping he wouldn't answer, but she had no such luck. He picked up on the second ring.

"Bells? I wasn't expecting to hear from you till Wednesday. Everything OK?"

Bella chuckled; she really was just like her dad. She hadn't even realized she had fallen into a pattern of when she called him.

"Yeah, Dad, everything is fine. How's Forks? Anything wild and exciting happening?"

Her father laughed and answered, "It's Forks in February, Bells. Goin' fishin' with Billy Saturday. It's going to be sunny. Sunny in Forks is about as wild and exciting as it gets."

Bella smiled thinking of Forks. Forks was about as different from Phoenix as her father was from her mother. Phoenix was dry, warm, sunny, and huge. Forks was wet, cold, cloudy, and small. But her dad had been born and raised there, and he knew everyone. She wondered to herself for a moment, _"What must that be like? To know literally _everyone_ in town?"_ Bella didn't even know the names of all the kids in her classes at school, and she wondered briefly if there weren't actually more kids in her sophomore year than there were at Forks High School.

She visited with her dad twice a year, but a few years ago she put her foot down and insisted they go somewhere else. She felt bad about that now. Her dad was now Chief of Police, but Forks was a small town. He didn't make a lot of money, and those trips couldn't have been cheap. Really, she only spent a few weeks a year with her dad... Was spending it in Forks really so bad?

"Sunny in Forks? You'll have to cancel your plans. You'll never get away from work. The station will be swamped with calls from panic stricken residents about a big, shiny thing in the sky. They'll think it's a UFO."

"Oh ha ha ha. Get into a good college, Bells. You'll never make it as a comedian."

Bella laughed. G_ood, _she thought. _This is going good. Keep it light, break it gently._

"I was thinking, Dad, for Easter, why don't we just stay in Forks? Everywhere is always so crowded around the holidays. Is it too late to change our plans?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

Honestly, was it _that _shocking the she wanted to stay in Forks for Easter? "Nothing's wrong, Dad. I just thought since neither of us really like crowds, why go somewhere we know is going to be crowded?"

The tone of her father's voice completely changed; he was now very much Police Chief Swan. "Isabella Marie Swan, you hate Forks. Now tell me what's wrong. Is it school? Is someone giving you a hard time? Is it a boy? Did someone hurt you? That Jason kid from your history project?"

He didn't add, "Because if so, I'll kill him," but he didn't have to. She heard it.

Bella squeezed her eyes shut. This had been going so well and now it had completely nosedived. She'd wanted to break it to him gently. So much for gently...

"Nothing's wrong, Dad, really. I'm fine. School's fine. The project is done. I got an A. We went to Harold's for ice cream after dinner to celebrate. Just got back."

_ And Jason is a jerk. I may just make a little Jason voodoo doll and get some really big pins. I know just where to stick the first one._

No need to mention that.

"You're sure? You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure, and yes, I'd tell you if something was wrong."

At a sudden mental image of her dad dragging Jason from the lunch room in handcuffs with Brittany Logan crying into her pom poms, Bella cracked up laughing. If only waiting until their project was done and handed in to mention he had a date with the bleached blonde, spray tanned, silicon implanted idiot was a criminal offense.

"Bella, are you there? Are you all right? You sound like you're crying. Put your mother on the phone."

Bella was laughing and gasping for air. "No, Dad... really... I'm fine... I'm not crying, I'm laughing... I just... had a mental picture of you interrogating half the class... Like in those old movies... with the suspect sweating with a light shining on him, and you sitting there with your feet up on the table and cleaning your gun."

"You're sure?" He sounded a little more relaxed now, Bella was glad to note.

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure."

"OK then. You got an A? That's great, Bells. I'm proud of you. That project was half your grade, right? Given any more thought to what college you want? I've got some money saved up, but it's not much."

She interrupted him, "Dad, no. We've already talked about this. I'm not taking your retirement money. There are scholarships and grants, and I can work part-time."

"Bells, it's not my retirement money. It's your college money. I've been saving it up since the day we found out your mom was pregnant."

Bella had to swallow hard a couple times. Sometimes it was nice to be the one taken care of for a change. She could leave things up to her dad. If she left things up to her mom, she'd be sitting here in the dark because the electric bill never got paid.

"I'm getting a lot of stuff in the mail, but I still don't know where I want to go." Maybe she could look into the University of Washington. She really didn't like the cold and rain, but Seattle might be cool. Good coffee, anyway. And bookstores... Seattle must have some really cool bookstores. Maybe she could find some good recipes for soup. She did like soup.

"Well, you're only a sophomore. You've got plenty of time. So, how's your mom? Still seeing that Phil?"

_ Oh, yeah. Definitely still seeing Phil. _ "Mom's good. She's still with Phil." _OK, here goes. _"Actually, they're getting married."

Silence.

_ Oh, crap. _What was she thinking? Bella could've kicked herself. She should never have just blurted it out like that.

"Your mom's getting remarried? Oh. Well, that's good. I'm happy for her. And you? You like the guy, right?"

"Yeah, Dad. I like him. He's like a kind of an older brother."

_An older brother, not a new, younger dad. _That was good. She was glad she'd thought of that.

"Well, good then. Listen, Bells, it's late and I've got an early shift tomorrow. I better get going. I'll talk to you Wednesday, 'K?"

"Yeah, Dad, I better get going, too. I've still got homework, and I've got a big Spanish test tomorrow."

"Good night then, honey. Good luck on the test tomorrow."

"Thanks, Dad, good night. Love you."

"You, too, Bells. You, too."

Bella set her phone down and let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding since she dialed her dad's number. That hadn't gone too badly, but she didn't like the way her dad's voice sounded after she told him, and he got off the phone really quick. Tomorrow was Tuesday. She knew her dad's schedule, and today was his early shift. Tuesday he went in at noon. Still, she said to herself, he may have just switched shifts with one of the guys. He did do that sometimes. Maybe she should call Billy, just give him a heads up. Billy Black was one of her dad's oldest friends. He lived about ten miles away on the Quileute reservation. In the end, Bella decided to give her dad some time and to wait until after she talked to him on Wednesday, see how he sounded then.

Bella pulled her books out and tried to finish her homework and study for her test, but she had trouble concentrating. She kept thinking about Jason. Just a few hours ago, she was crying over him, but now she found she didn't really care all that much. Yes, she was upset, but she wasn't crushed. Honestly, she had really only known him for the few weeks they worked on the project together, and it wasn't as if he'd asked her out then canceled after the project was done. But still, it'd hurt when he said he'd asked Brittney out for Valentine's Day. She had really fallen for him fast. He was cute and popular; he was on the baseball team; he was smart and funny, and he was really nice to her. And she had really had thought he liked her. Bella rolled her eyes. Did it have to be Brittney Logan, though? That girl really was an idiot, and Jason was just as good a student as Bella. There was only one reason he'd ask her out, and if that was the head he thought with, she didn't really want him anyway.

If this hurt this much, what had her dad felt when her mom left, she wondered? She'd never thought about that before, and it really wasn't a nice thought. Maybe instead of just two weeks, she could visit for a whole month this summer, and she decided they were definitely staying in Forks.

"Bella, sweetie, are you still up?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm up."

Her mother walked in and sat on the edge of her bed. "I'm so happy you're OK with this, honey. It's just... It's been just you and me for so long. It's going to be a big adjustment, having a man around."

"We'll work it out, Mom." Her mother was looking at her with tears forming in her eyes. Oh, God. She was going to get all emotional on her. "Mom, what's wrong? You do… You do _want_ to marry Phil, right? You're sure?"

Her mother laughed and wiped her eyes. "Oh yes, baby. I'm very sure. I'm not crying about that. Bella, honey, you're my best friend. I love you so much. Would you be my maid of honor? There's no one else I'd rather have next to me."

Oh great, now she was crying too. Again. But for a much better reason this time. "Mom! Yes, of course. Absolutely!" Bella hugged her mother, and they laughed and cried together while they talked about everything from colors and flowers to cakes... and gowns.

_Gowns, oh crap, gowns._

She was going to have to wear a gown.

_And heels. Oh crap, crap, crap._

Bella only just managed not to cringe. She could walk across a flat surface in _sneakers_ and find something to trip over; put her in _heels_ and she was a danger to others. The picture of her tripping over her own feet and falling into the cake popped into her head, and she decided she was absolutely changing into flats after the ceremony. Phil's older brother, Andrew, was going to be the best man. He was a big guy, just like Phil. If he couldn't keep her vertical for the ceremony, no one could.

Plans were made to go looking for gowns a week from Saturday, and Bella and her mother finally said good night.

It was now midnight, and Bella curled up on her side and stared at the wall, just like she had earlier. This time she thought about her dad and Phil and smiled. When there were men like them in the world, why waste tears on guys like Jason? As she drifted off to sleep, Bella wondered if she would find the right guy someday, hoping she would. Where was he right now, she wondered? What was he doing right now, right at this very minute?

The next two weeks passed quickly. She did well on her Spanish test, and since her dad had sounded like himself the next time she talked to him, Bella had decided not to call Billy. She'd seen Jason at school a few times, but it was a big school with plenty of stairways and halls; it was easy to change her routes to avoid seeing him. Out of sight, out of mind. It irritated her that even when she went out of her way to avoid him, he'd eventually turn up on her detour route anyway. When she had seen him, she'd sometimes thought he might have been staring at her, but he never made any attempt to speak to her. It reminded her of an old movie from the '80's she watched with her mom, _The Breakfast Club_. In the movie the popular kids didn't forget the unpopular kids they met in detention, but this wasn't a movie. It was real life, and in real life things like that just don't happen.

The morning of their appointment came, and as they ate breakfast, Bella and her mother talked about what her mom was looking for, something simple, off white or maybe a very pale pastel, not sparkly, definitely not strapless. And as inexpensive as possible.

Driving to their appointment, they passed a sign for an estate sale, and Bella hoped her mother was paying too much attention to traffic and the directions from their new GPS's to have seen it. Her mom was in the height of her antiquing phase, and she knew if her mom saw it, they'd be going there. Bella was developing an appreciation for antiques herself, and normally wouldn't have minded going, but she was rereading one of her favorite books and was looking forward to curling up with it when they got back. Until she found her own Mr. Darcy, she would just have to share with Elizabeth Bennett.

"Oh, Bella, look! An estate sale! The sign says it's in Brenton Estates; oh, that's a _very_ upscale area. I bet they have a lot of beautiful things. We could go after the appointment and then have lunch."

Bella repressed a sigh and instead smiled her agreement. Today was her mother's day; she was a bride shopping for her wedding dress, and whatever her mother wanted to do, they'd do. "Sure, Mom, sounds like fun. How about La Cucina Italiana for lunch?" Mr. Darcy would just have to wait. It wasn't like he was going anywhere, after all.

Bella supposed she shouldn't be surprised she was finding she really liked antiquing with her mother. She loved reading about other eras, Jane Austin, Emily Brontë, Charles Dickens. She loved the formality, the etiquette, the elegance, the differences to her world today. At first, she had just tried to learn a little to protect her mom from being taken in and spending more than they could afford on something that was basically worthless, but now she had really come to appreciate antiques in that they had history; they had character. If they could speak, what would they say? What had they seen? What lives had they lived? What she couldn't understand was why the more mint condition something was, the more it was worth. If you wanted something in perfect condition, go buy something new was her opinion. What history, what character did something have if it was in perfect condition? It hadn't lived. It had probably been stuck in a corner and never used.

On the other hand, if something was a mess, you weren't allowed to fix it up. One antique store she had been to with her mother had an old rocking chair that she'd liked. It was black with flowers painted on the back, and the legs had decorative turnings and flutings. The paint was badly chipped in spots, and there was built up dirt visible even against the black paint. The shopkeeper had seen her looking at it and turned the sales pitch on high, telling her, "Doesn't it look like your grandmother could have just been sitting in it?" When she told the man that if it had belonged to her grandmother, the first thing she would do was give it a good scrubbing and then have the paint fixed, he'd nearly had a heart attack. "Patina," he had said. She'd looked right at him and said it wasn't patina, it was dirty.

Bella and her mother agreed on their plans for the rest of the day as they arrived at the bridal store and were greeted at the door by their consultant, Abby, whom Bella liked immediately. She was very professional, definitely wanting to make a sale, but not at all pushy about it. She listened to what her mom wanted and stuck to the price range she was given, which Bella was very grateful for. Their budget was limited, and the last thing she wanted was for her mom to fall in love with a dress they couldn't afford.

Abby pulled several dresses for her mom to try on, and Bella waited by the dais as they both went into the dressing room. That surprised her. It hadn't occurred to her that her mom would need help with the gown. She knew the ladies in her books always had their maids help them dress, but that was different. They had corsets, petticoats, and God knows what else. This was just a long dress. She waited a few more minutes before the door opened and her mom stepped out with Abby right behind her.

Bella's breath caught in her throat at the first sight of her mom in a wedding gown.

_Holy crap. This is really real. My mom is a real bride! My mom has grown up._

She had to actually bite her tongue to prevent the laugh that wanted to escape at that thought. Bella had never gone wedding dress shopping before, but she didn't think laughing at your first sight of the bride in a gown would go over well. "Oh, Mom. It's beautiful."

"Do you really think so, honey? I don't know. They only have the sample in white, but it comes in ivory, too. What do you think?"

Abby stood off to the side a little as her mom stood up on the dais in front of the mirrors. "Most of our samples are only in white, but all the ones I pulled can be ordered in off white or ivory. Some are available a very pale pinky peachy blush color. It's a very flattering color with your skin tone and hair. We have swatches of all the colors. What do you think of this one?"

It was an A-line dress in white satin, very elegant and very simple with no beading or lace. It had one inch wide straps which came down to seamlessly form the V-necked bodice by wrapping one over the other. The asymmetrical waistline had a bow on the side, and the skirt hung full with a short train. Abby showed them the designer's ivory swatch.

"What do you think, Bella?" Renee asked.

As she looked up at her mom, Bella could see how much she wanted her approval. "I think it's beautiful, Mom, but it's not my dress. What do _you_ think?"

Her mom was looking at herself in the mirror very skeptically. Didn't they say when a bride finds her dress, she just knows it immediately? It was a beautiful dress, but judging by the look on her mom's face, it wasn't _the_ dress. "I don't know." Renee turned a little and looked at the dress from the side. "I don't like the bow. I don't know, and I think the neckline is a little too deep. What do you think about the train? I don't know if I want a train."

"Mom, you've said 'I don't know' or 'I don't like' now four or five times. It's a beautiful dress, but it's not your dress."

Her mom looked at her and almost looked a little relieved. Did her mom need her approval so much that she didn't want to say no without it?

After that first dress, her mother was a little more assertive in what she did or didn't like in each of the next dresses. Neither of them could believe there could be so many dresses so similar, yet so different. It was like when they went to get paint for her room. Her favorite color was purple. They would go and get purple paint, easy right? Yeah, _not_. There were at least fifty different purples.

The bridal salon was huge, and Bella was sure it must have over a thousand dresses. She began to worry they'd be there all day, but only six dresses later, her mom and Abby walked back out of the dressing room, and with just one look at her mom's face, Bella knew immediately they had found the dress. It was similar to the first dress, but the fabric was a much lighter weight, silkier satin with much less sheen. Like the first dress, the bodice was formed by straps that wrapped one over the other, but with this dress the side that wrapped over the other gathered along the side, bowlessly Bella was glad to note, and flowed to seamlessly form the top of the layered skirt, ending in a train that was just barely there. The skirt was not as full as the first, and the bottom layer was beautiful lace with a very slight shimmer over the same fabric as the rest of the dress. It was, in a word, stunning. It was at the top of their price range, but it stayed in budget, and it fit perfectly, so there would be little extra expense for alteration.

Renee didn't want a veil, but they all agreed she needed a necklace, so Abby gave them information on a local jewelry store that rented jewelry for special occasions. Bella and her mother shared a glance. Who knew jewelry stores did that?

Hoping to get out of going to the estate sale so she could get home to her book faster, Bella was just about to suggest heading straight to the jewelry store while the dress was still fresh in their minds, when her mother beat her to it and said how good she felt about finding something special after finding her dress. "It's our lucky day, Bella. I just know we're going to find something great." Bella sighed. Oh well then, so much for that.

The drive to Brenton Estates wasn't long. It was an exclusive, secluded community a world away from the strictly middle class area where they lived, but in actual physical distance, it wasn't far.

They came to the sign that marked the entrance to the world of The Other Half, and as they made the turn to enter, Bella wondered what all the highbrows must think of all the lowbrows invading their painstakingly manicured world. They found the house where the sale was taking place and parked the car. Bella felt her mouth drop a bit as they approached the house. She used the term "house" lightly; the place was huge and was sitting on a lot that she thought had to be the size of the block she lived on. Judging by the size of the house, their lunch would more likely be dinner, and Bella wished she'd packed a snack in her purse but then thought better of it. She'd probably get crumbs on some inordinately expensive hand woven carpet imported from God knows where.

A representative of the firm conducting the sale was meeting people at the door as they arrived, and told them the owner of the house, a Mr. Richard Masen, had passed away and the man's children had hired his firm to conduct the sale. After informing them that if a piece had no price displayed, it was either unavailable for sale or already sold, he quickly ushered them away in a manner that made it clear he had already judged them as being unable to afford anything anyway and just wasting their time and, more importantly, his. Bella was glad her mom was in too good a mood after finding her dress to have noticed his rude dismissal of them, but personally, she wished she could buy something spectacular just to spite him.

Wandering around the house slowly, Bella and her mother admired everything they saw and enjoyed themselves talking and just browsing. Several representatives of the firm were walking around, mingling through the crowd, answering questions and giving information about the pieces. Bella was glad to see that they were much more personable than the greeter, but of course, she told herself, they probably worked on commission and had to be pleasant if they wanted to get paid.

Overhearing a woman telling an older couple about some antique jewelry, Renee stopped to listen.

Bella noticed a painting she recognized and walked over to get a closer look while her mother went off to look at the jewelry. She had studied this artist's work at school and had done a rendering of this very piece. She had taken art as an elective, and her teacher wanted to introduce them to some lesser known but very good artists.

Walking over to the painting, Bella tripped on the edge of an area rug and fell against a desk. She rubbed her hip where it had hit against the edge of the desk, positive it would bruise. There was another man in the room with her; she had noticed him before, looking completely lost as he drifted around aimlessly looking at different things, and he came over to ask if she was all right. Assuming he was another of the firm's employees and afraid of a lawsuit if she was hurt, Bella assured him she was fine, and they began talking about the painting. He introduced himself as Michael and told her how impressed he was with her knowledge of the artist, who had been a favorite of the late Mr. Masen.

As they spoke, Bella noticed the desk she had fallen into. It was beautiful. It had definitely seen better days, but it was still beautiful. She recognized the wood as mahogany. The desk had four drawers on either side and one across the middle, all with brass handles. It had a green leather writing surface covered in ink stains, showing how well used it was. Michael noticed her admiring the desk and told her she had good taste.

She smiled at him. "Look at the leather; how many letters must have been written here? Were they love letters? Dear John letters? It's been _used. _ It's _lived_." She trailed her fingers along the stained leather and sighed, "It really is beautiful."

When Bella told him how she couldn't understand why antiques were more valuable if they didn't show their age he laughed, "I'd have to agree with you, Miss… I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

"Oh, sorry, I'm Bella. Bella Swan."

He looked at her oddly for a moment before smiling widely. In an instant, his whole face changed; it brightened, and he became animated. He appeared to really enjoy talking to her, and Bella hoped he didn't work solely on commission, because there was no way could she buy anything.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella. This desk has been in the Masen family since the end of the Civil War. It was purchased for Richard Masen by his father as a wedding present. Richard Masen was a Major in the Union Army during the Civil War."

Bella looked at the desk even more appreciatively. She couldn't believe how seriously this man took his job. First the painting, now the desk. Had he memorized the history of everything in the house, she wondered? He seemed almost grateful for the chance to talk about the things in the room, and the more he talked, the more he smiled.

Bella sat at the desk and traced an ink stain with her finger. She looked up at him and said, "Think what this desk has seen. What if it could talk? World Wars, Women's Suffrage, the Great Depression… Just… everything. Just look at it.

"I mean, everything here is beautiful, but... just…. Please don't take this the wrong way… but some of the pieces are… It's like they're just for show; there's no _life_ in them, but this desk, just look how hard it's been used. You can just _feel_ it. Look at the drawers; you can tell they've been opened and closed thousands of times. It's banged up and the leather is stained. It's not in pristine or mint condition, but it's _alive_. Someone could have sat at this desk and written to a soldier during World War One."

Michael continued to smile at her and was even laughing a little now. "I happen to know for a fact that someone did do just that. After Richard Masen's death, the desk passed to his son, Edward. Edward Masen and his family were very involved with both the Red Cross during World War One and with Women's Suffrage."

This was just too much. Bella almost thought he might be making it up as he went, but he looked so sincere, so natural, almost inexplicably happy to have the chance to tell this to someone who was willing to listen. She looked at the desk completely fascinated; she really felt a connection to it. She could feel its life, and that it still wanted to live. She thought of the other, better preserved pieces in the house and smiled, thinking to herself that in the furniture world they would be the cheerleaders, on the sidelines looking pretty but not really doing very much.

Her mother found her and came up to her. Bella introduced her mother to Michael and repeated all he had told her about the desk.

Renee knew her daughter usually just humored her when she went along with whatever she was interested in at the moment, but this time she could see it was different. This time, she was really interested. More than once she had seen her daughter stand and stare at a piece of antique furniture with a smile on her face and could almost swear she was talking to the person who had once owned it, as if the years between them were no barrier to her.

Renee looked at her daughter looking at the desk, the way she was running her fingers along the leather, and thought about the dress she had just bought. Yes, she loved the dress, but she loved her daughter more. "Michael, how much is this desk?"

"Mom! Excuse us please, Michael." Bella took her mother's arm and turned slightly away from Michael. "Mom, are you crazy? You saw the prices on the things here. Even in the condition the desk is in, we could never afford it. It's _Civil War era_ for Pete's sake." She was trying to speak quietly, but she was embarrassed knowing Michael could hear every word anyway. He had been so nice, and she really had enjoyed talking to him. Now, like the man greeting people at the door, he was going to think she'd been just wasting his time.

"Bella, we can afford it. It'll be your birthday and Christmas presents for this year from both me and your dad. I'm sure he'll agree..."

"Mom, no. However much it is, I'm sure it's way too much."

Renee continued as if she hadn't said anything, "...and when Phil gets called up, he'll be making a lot more."

"_If_ Phil gets called up, IF. It might not happen, and even if it does, it might be next year or the next year, and I can't spend money that isn't mine even if it does come. We don't have the money." Renee looked at her daughter and told her that yes, they did have the money.

Bella realized what her mother was saying. "Mom, no. Absolutely not."

"Bella, it's _just a dress_. I can find a cheaper dress."

"Mom, it's not _just_ _a dress_! It's your wedding gown."

"Which I will have on for what, five or six hours? You will have the desk for the rest of your life. As long as I end up married to Phil at the end of the day, that's all I really want; that's all that really matters. The rest just isn't as important as we make it out to be."

Michael tried to give the two ladies their privacy, but he could clearly hear them talking. He cleared his throat and interrupted them, "I'm sorry, Ms. Swan, but this desk isn't for sale."

Renee was disappointed, but Bella was shocked. She hadn't noticed a price on it, but then, she hadn't looked for one. If he hadn't been trying to sell her the desk, why had he wasted so much of his time telling her all about it? Yeah, she had enjoyed talking to him, but he was working. He had a job to do.

"Please allow me to explain and introduce myself fully. My name is Michael Masen. This was my father's house. He died very suddenly. He was 74, but he was very healthy, very strong. He had an aneurism and died very quickly; it was only a matter of hours. My brother, sister, and I all live in Chicago, and we weren't able to make it to the hospital in time to say good-bye.

"Thank you, Bella. Meeting you and talking with you these few minutes has…." He laughed and ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head and looking almost bewildered. "Meeting you has…. has made me feel a… a whole new appreciation for my family. More than you can know. The painting was one of my father's favorite possessions, and my sister will be taking it. But the desk... We didn't want to sell it. It's been in our family for so long, you see, but no one in the family needs or really has the room for it. We all have several pieces that have been in the family for generations already. We're really a bunch of pack-rats, I guess." He paused and laughed again. "We don't want to sell the desk, but I would like to give it to you. It came into the family as a gift; it seems fitting that it leave the family as a gift."

Bella and her mother were silent for a moment and then both tried to talk at once. Renee won. "Mr. Masen, that's very kind of you, but we couldn't possibly accept."

Michael wouldn't accept no for an answer. "Please, I insist, and we Masens are very stubborn. We've been torn up about what to do with it. As I said, no one really has room for it. It would end up in an attic somewhere collecting dust. Now, are you able to take it with you now, or will you need to come back for it? Or, if you prefer, I can arrange to have it delivered."

Bella and her mother both continued to try to refuse, but every argument they made he had an answer for, almost as if he had planned for them in advance. He was so insistent, that in the end they gave in and accepted, thanking him repeatedly.

Phil had already started spring training but didn't have practice on the weekends, and he had a large pickup truck the desk would fit in easily. Renee called him, and they continued talking while they waited for him to arrive. He brought a couple of his teammates, and Bella introduced them to Michael. The men talked baseball for a few minutes–Michael and his family are all big White Sox fans–and soon he was laughing and sharing stories from his own college playing days.

Bella thanked him again as Phil and his friends loaded the desk onto the truck. Michael walked them to their car, and as Bella got in, he leaned in to tell her something. "I'll tell you a little family secret. There have been more than just letters to World War One soldiers written at that desk. I happen to know there were quite a few love letters as well. It has a secret, hidden compartment, but I'm not going to tell you where it is, or how to open it. You'll have to find it yourself. Good luck with that. Enjoy the hunt."

Bella looked at him. He was smiling and laughing to the point that his face was turning red. She would not have recognized him as the solemn, lost looking man she remembered first seeing. They said good bye, and Bella and Renee thanked him again.

"No, please believe me, Bella, that desk has always belonged to you. We've just been holding onto it for you until you could come for it. Now, it will live again."

Michael watched them drive away and bent over holding his stomach as he laughed. Once he caught his breath, he pulled out his cell phone and called his sister. "Sue? It's Mic. Listen, you are never going to believe what just happened…."

Their mother/daughter lunch at La Cucina Italiana turned into a couple large pizzas at home shared with Phil's teammates as a thank you for helping them, and the men were just setting the desk by the window in Bella's room when she and her mom arrived home with the pizzas.

They all sat around the small kitchen with Phil's friends teasing Renee and Bella that they could wrap any man around their little finger. "First Phil here, now total strangers giving away family heirlooms. Ah, the poor men who fell before the Swan women; they never stood a chance."

Everyone laughed, and Phil hugged Renee close to him. "Hey, Scott, who was it who gave up part of his Saturday to move furniture for the Swan women?"

Phil's teammate raised a slice of pizza in salute to Renee and Bella. "Ah, yes. But for Swan women with pizza. Bribe a man with pizza, Bella, and he'll be putty in your hands. Remember that."

Bella laughed and dropped her head in mock embarrassment. "Pizza? So, that's the secret? I'll have to remember that."

After they ate, Phil and his friends headed out to the batting cages. There was no such thing as a day off when you were working to get called up to the majors.

Bella started to help her mother clean up the kitchen a bit after they left, but Renee stopped her. "Bella, go. I can tell your dying to go to your room. Go. There's not much here. I'll take care of it." Bella didn't realize how anxious she was to go check out the desk and look for the hidden compartment Michael told her about until her mom mentioned it, and she nearly squealed in excitement. She realized now he'd made sure her mother didn't hear him tell her about it, and she was even more grateful to him.

_A secret compartment. How _freakin' cool_ is that? Maybe I'll find one of those love letters he mentioned. That was an odd comment though; the desk has always belonged to me? _

Hours later, Bella sat cross-legged on her floor completely frustrated. She had taken all the drawers out and put them back in four times. She'd felt carefully all along each one, inside and out, each time but found nothing. She had crawled all around the desk on her hands and knees, feeling, poking, and knocking on every square inch three times but had again found nothing. Finally, she got a tape measure and measured the depth, width, and length of each drawer. All were the same. That is, the top four were the same, and the bottom two were the same. What had looked like eight drawers was really six, the bottom two on each side were actually one deep drawer that looked like two. The handles were all secure and identical; none of them moved up or down, turned, pulled out, or had any kind of button hidden in them.

As Bella sat staring at the desk studying it, trying to find something that didn't match, something that was different from one side to the other, she began to wonder if Michael was a sadist.

At one point, Bella realized the desk sat flush up against her wall, and she got excited thinking maybe there was something hidden on the back side of the desk. Hadn't that been fun? It had taken her forever just to get the desk moved out far enough to get behind it, only to find a whole lot more nothing. She had just gotten it back in place, and she was exhausted. Maybe they should've brought something better than pizza home for the guys; this thing weighed a ton.

Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she said to herself, "OK, Bella. Don't give up. It's here. Once more with the drawers." With that little pep talk, she pulled herself up and took the drawers out again. When she again didn't find anything, she considered giving up, at least for now. Actually, she considered screaming and stamping her feet and then giving up for now.

_Really, what did they hide in here? State secrets? Were the Masens freakin' spies or something? _

Bella started to put the drawers back in again, but one didn't fit. One Did Not Fit. She actually laughed out loud. She'd found it. The Drawer Did Not Fit! The drawers _weren't_ all the same. This had to be it. She lined the top four drawers across the top of the desk and measured again, not the depth, but the height of the sides from the outside. The sides of one drawer were taller than the other three. The depths were all the same, but one was taller. It had a thicker bottom.

_This is it! This is really it!_

She grabbed the drawer and did a celebratory happy dance around her room singing, "Go, Bella. You found it. You're the greatest. Go, Bella. You found it. You're the greatest. Go, Bella." She stubbed her toe once, but she was so happy to have found the hidden compartment she didn't care, and was laughing like she was possessed. She quickly put the other drawers back in and sat down on her bed with the top left drawer, excited to open the hidden compartment.

_Oh. Right. Open it._

She had found it, but she still didn't know how to open the damn thing.

_Crap. Talk about having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. OK. Well, finding it had to be harder than finding out how to open it. Right? _

She didn't have to search the whole desk, just this drawer. It had to be easier.

_ It has to be easier. It has to be easier. It has to be easier._ Bella kept telling herself that, like a mantra. Mind over matter. The power of positive thinking.

"Bella? Honey, you OK? Can I come in?"

So focused on studying the drawer was she that Bella nearly screamed out loud when her mother quietly knocked on her door. "I'm fine, Mom. Just… hanging around. Studying." She jumped up and shoved the drawer back in, pinching her finger in the process. "Ow, ow, ow!"

"Bella? Baby, what's wrong?"

"Of course, you can come in, Mom. Nothing's wrong. Pinched my finger in the drawer."

She was sucking her sore finger and quickly grabbed a book with her other hand as her mother came in. "Are you OK? Is it bleeding? I'll get the first aid kit." First aid kits in hospitals didn't get as much use as theirs did.

"No, Mom, it's fine. What's up?"

Renee sat down on the bed, and Bella leaned against the desk. She laughed to herself as she realized she was leaning against The Drawer, like she was trying to hide a guilty secret.

"Nothing, just wanted to check on you. You've been in here a long time. I thought maybe you fell asleep."

Renee looked at the book in her hand and asked what she was studying. Bella looked quickly at the book. She could hardly say she was studying a drawer. "Oh, just biology, we have a lab on the stages of mitosis coming up." She was glad she had grabbed her biology book; if there was one subject she could guarantee her mother would not ask questions about, it was any kind of science.

"I thought we'd just heat up the leftover Chinese from last night; you made plenty. Sound good?"

Bella hadn't realized how hungry she was until her mother mentioned food. "Yeah, sounds fine. Is Phil coming?"

Renee laughed. "He just called and said he'd be a while. The guys taped themselves at the batting cage, and they're analyzing their batting stanzas. Or something like that."

Bella laughed with her mother. "In other words, don't expect him anytime soon."

Renee stood up and they walked out of the room. "It wouldn't surprise me if they were still at it tomorrow morning."

Bella and Renee talked and watched a movie as they ate. She'd always enjoyed spending time with her mother, but tonight she really just wanted to get back to her room. After about two hours, Phil came back, and she was able to say goodnight without any questions about going to bed so early.

She got back to her room charged up and ready to go and pulled the drawer out. She had been thinking since she left her room for dinner, and she had an idea. The secret compartment was hidden inside the drawer on the bottom, so however you opened it, she reasoned, it wouldn't be likely to also be on the inside the drawer. Anyway, it was perfectly smooth, as were the sides. She couldn't see any way anything could be hidden there. Same for the back of the drawer, and she had already looked at the front. The only place she could think of would be the runners underneath where it slid along the tracks in the desk. She turned the drawer upside down on her bed and looked at the runners carefully through a magnifying glass. She started on the left side and worked her way from the front to the back.

_YES! There it is!_

All the way at the back, there was a tiny button. Excited, Bella stretched out a paper clip and used it to push the button. Nothing happened. It was so anticlimactic she almost growled in frustration. She took a deep breath and mumbled to herself. "OK. Could it be stuck?" She hoped not, because if it was, she had no idea how to get it open.

_ What else could it be? Think of things that open with some kind of a button. The door on the microwave. What else? The handle on the screen door has a button. My suitcase has latches; they're kind of like buttons. Wait. Latches. Plural. Buttons. Are there two buttons? It makes sense. There are two runners; there could be two buttons. _

Grabbing the magnifying glass, Bella looked at the runner on the right. "YES! There it is." She couldn't find the paper clip for a moment and then with a triumphant cry pressed the second button. There was a soft click.

_YES! YES, YES, YES! YESYESYESYESYES! This is so cool! I found it! I got it opened! _

Bella laughed and punched her fist in the air, then got up and did another happy dance. She went back to her bed, anxious to see it.

_How big is it? The whole bottom of the drawer or only part of it? How deep? What am I going to put in there? _

She'd never kept a diary or anything like that. It would be a good place to keep jewelry, not that she had any. What had been kept in there over the past nearly one hundred and fifty years, she wondered? She turned the drawer right side up and looked. The drawer's false bottom was the top of the compartment; it was hinged in the front.

Bella opened it fully and couldn't believe her eyes when she looked inside. There was a letter. Someone must have put it there and forgotten about it.

_This is so cool! A love letter! I bet it's one of the love letters Mr. Masen mentioned!_

She picked it up carefully. She could tell it was really old, but it didn't look fragile. It looked like it could've been written yesterday, but it was clearly written with a fountain pen. A fountain pen! She almost felt guilty, but she had read to it.

Chicago, Ill

June 24, 1918

Dear Cousin,

I hope this letter finds you well... I fear not much here has changed since...

...my intention to enlist as soon as I am able...

...having only just turned 17...

_Well, not a love letter, but, wow, he had wanted to enlist. To serve in World War One. _World War One!_ I studied World War One. It's history to me, but it was today to him when he wrote this. They called it the Great War, the War to End All Wars. Man, were they ever wrong. _

_ His mother was just as worried for him as mothers are today for their sons and daughters fighting in the war. She must've been a resourceful woman, get him a girl and he'll stay, clever... I wonder if it worked? _

...silly, foolish things... ...To hope for her to have an original or clever thought in her head?...

...all pretty faces and empty heads...

...Miss Assistant District Attorney's Daughter ...

...really must remember her name first...

_ Hmphh. What an ass. He can't even remember her name, but _she's_ empty headed, silly and foolish? Hypocrite. I doubt he'd look twice at a girl if she wasn't pretty, no matter how smart she was._

...assisting my mother in her volunteer work with the Red Cross and at the hospital..."

_OK, maybe he's not _all_ bad._

...War Chest auction...

...netted $2050...

_ $2050? Really? Wow. How much is that now?_

...White Sox game on my birthday...

_ Baseball? Seriously? What _is it _with men and baseball?_

...unlikely my father will have much time for baseball in the coming months...

...arrested four people...

...over one hundred waiters were taken into custody...

...poisoning drinks of people who tipped poorly...

_ They poisoned people for tipping poorly?!_

...I hope you are all well and happy. I remain,

Your Cousin,

Edward Masen

Wow. Well, she had wondered what the desk would say if it could talk. Now, she knew. Bella must have read the letter through dozens of times. Initially, she was offended at his description of the girls, but she had to be fair. He had never meant for anyone but his cousin to see this letter, and really, everyone had to vent at some time. For all she knew, they could have been the Brittney Logan's of his time.

Out of the entire letter, one phrase stuck in her mind.

"...my intention to become a doctor after the war..."

_I wonder if he did._

At least, she was sure he would have had an "after the war".

The letter was dated June 24, 1918, and he had just turned 17. She remembered studying WW1; it ended on November 11, 1918. The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. It became Armistice Day and then later Veteran's Day. The war would be over in just five more months, well before he turned eighteen. She knew over one hundred thousand American soldiers died during WW1.

_ At least he wasn't one of them. What happened to his cousin? Did he enlist?_

There was no indication in the letter about what his cousin's plans were.

The letter was flat; it had never been folded, so she didn't think it was ever mailed.

_Why not? Who had put it in the desk? Michael's father? Was this Edward his grandfather? _He had told her the original owner of the desk had a son named Edward, and it had gone to him after his father's death. She began wondering out loud, "This Edward would have been too young to be his son. His grandson probably?" She read the letter through again. "His poor mother. It must have horrible, worrying about him."

Bella had been told many times about her Great Great Aunt Margaret. Margaret Nash had been a nurse during WWII in the Navy and was taken prisoner by the Japanese. She'd spent nearly four years as a prisoner of war in the Philippines. Her parents didn't know if she was dead or alive until a photo of her standing over a Japanese patient in a hospital bed was found.

It was a story Bella had known as long as she could remember but had never really thought about. Now, she did. She thought what hell that must have been for her family, the not knowing. Not knowing had to be unbearable.

She looked at the letter again, wishing there was some way she could let Edward's mother know her son would be safe.

She felt incredibly silly, but she grabbed her pen, ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook, and began writing.

_Dear Edward, _

_I found your letter in the desk. Your mother will be glad to know you won't be seeing battle in this war. It will be over soon, long before you're 18. An armistice will be signed on November 11th and all fighting will stop at 11:00 A.M. that morning. The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. It will become known as Armistice Day and then, eventually, Veteran's Day. _

_Become a doctor. Consider it your duty to care for those who fought._

_Also, you may want to reconsider insulting the intelligence of someone whose name you cannot even remember. Some may see that as arrogant or hypocritical._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Bella Swan_

Bella looked at the letter she had just written and shook her head. She had just written a letter to a man who's been dead for decades. And reprimanded him. "Funny Farm, here I come." She put the letter she wrote in the compartment and the letter from Edward in the drawer itself.

She knew she should really give Edward's letter to Michael. If someone had a letter her grandfather had written, she'd want it, but she didn't think she could bring herself to give it up.

She went to tell her mother goodnight and got ready for bed. Before getting into bed, Bella looked out her window up at the moon wondering what had become of Edward Masen.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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I hope you liked it! This was one of the longest chapters in the story, most are between 6,000 – 8,000. I know it was a lot, but I didn't want to break it up, and a lot that happens in this chapter will be important later, so I couldn't cut anything.

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The story about Margaret Nash is real. She was my great aunt.

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The next chapter is back to Edward.


	3. Chapter 3

**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Thank you to my two Project Team Beta betas for this chapter, JointGifts and shelikesthesound.

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*******There are some brief but somewhat graphic descriptions of combat during WW1, which are real accounts of soldiers during the war. Only a few sentences, really.*******

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Of the early chapters, this is my favorite. It's when it really started to be fun to write. Edward finds... Elizabeth sets up a small test for Carlisle which he...

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I gave Edward an extensive group of family and friends because I really wanted to show how much he will lose when he's changed. It's easy to forget that, althougth I know who they all are, no one else does. I hope I did a good enough job of explaining who they are when I introduce them in the story. If not, please feel free to review and let me have it. The most important are:

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Maggie and Nellie – the Masens' maid and cook, respectively. Maggie has been with Edward's family since before his parents were married, and Nellie is her niece. She is only a few years older than Edward.

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Mr. and Mrs. Frank Carrington – New attorney working with Edward, Sr., his wife and daughter, Violet. Violet becomes part of Edward's circle of friends, the rest of whom are -

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Joe Watson, Will Collins, Irene and Lillian Stevenson. Irene and Lillian, have a younger sister, Anna, who is in love with Edward.

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Edward's extended family are: His father's brothers and their families, Richard (Josephine, sons Richard - d. 1901 and Timothy) and Michael (Louise, children Mic, Laura, and Tommy)

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His mother's siblings, their spouses, and children:

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Mary 30 (would be 44) Walter 39 - Anna 9, Walter 7, Rose 6: all dead 1903

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George Johnson 41 - Unmarried

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Sarah (Edith's twin) 39- Henry 42 - Clara 19 - Margaret 16 - Henry 11 - Bernard - 9

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Edith ("Edie", Sarah's twin) 39 - Hubert 44 - Hugh 20 - Martha 17 - Stephen - 15 - Dorothy 11

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Charles Johnson 37 - Grace 30 - Kitty 7 - Charlie 6

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The family members who have died are mentioned for a reason.

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Disclaimer - All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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A loud crash of thunder jolted Edward out of a deep sleep and had him sitting bolt upright in bed in an instant. The storm that had been threatening last night was still in full force. A very large, very old oak tree stood in front of his bedroom window, and he could hear the wind whipping through the branches. He had hated that sound as a child.

When he was about six years old, an older cousin had thought it was funny to scare him, telling him that during thunderstorms, there were monsters in the tree outside his window trying to get in to eat him. Timothy had told him the monsters waited until there were thunderstorms to eat little boys because the thunder hid their screams. He'd been so afraid, he'd crawled under his bed with his pillow. The next morning, his mother came into his room and after not finding him in bed, had searched the house for him. When she couldn't find him, she'd enlisted the help of their servants, Maggie and Kathleen, and together, the three women searched the house but still couldn't find him. His mother had been nearly hysterical by the time he'd walked down the stairs, dragging his pillow behind him and rubbing his eyes with a pudgy little fist, asking if the monsters were gone from the tree. He still remembered the look of fury on his mother's face when he'd looked up at her with sleepy eyes and said, "But, Timothy said."

As he grew, he'd learned that Timothy had quite the reputation in the family for pulling pranks and getting in trouble. Sitting in bed, Edward smiled to himself. He had paid Timothy back many times over through the years. Edward had the reputation of "that nice boy," compared to Timothy's "that little hooligan," and he took advantage of that, taking great delight over the years getting Timothy in trouble. No one had ever suspected him of a thing.

A sudden flash of lightning lit up his room bringing him back to the present, and Edward looked over at his clock but couldn't make out the time in the dark. He reached over to his bedside table and turned on the electric light. 6:18 A. M. Wishing he could sleep another couple of hours, Edward lay back down and pulled the sheets up over his face. He'd had the oddest dream last night, but as was usually the case, the more he tried to remember it, the faster it faded away. Clouds? Something about clouds, he thought. Flying above the clouds... It had been a good dream, odd, but good, and Edward wished he could remember more of it, but it was useless. It was gone.

Groaning, Edward rubbed his eyes. It was still early morning, and it was hot already. The rain had not cooled it down at all; it had only succeeded in making the air even more unbearably muggy than it had been before.

Allowing himself to lie there for a few minutes more deciding if he wanted to try for a little more sleep, or if he should give it up as a lost cause, Edward smiled to himself, still trying to remember his dream about flying above the clouds. They were using aeroplanes in the war. What must it be like to fly in one of those, he often wondered.

His mother wanted to be at the hospital early, but the storm was making him think perhaps they should arrive earlier still. There were seemingly countless men who had returned home from the war disfigured and crippled, and Lord knew there would undoubtedly be countless more to come before this nightmare was over, but there were also those whose suffering was psychological. Men who returned from the war physically unharmed but suffering terribly from crippling neurosis caused by the horrors they had lived through, and those were the ones Edward was there to help.

The symptoms could be as varied as the traumas of the war which had caused them. In some cases, there was full physical paralysis and in others it was partial; in some it was purely mental, although no less debilitating to the sufferer. They called it shell shock, and Edward didn't think he'd ever seen anything more devastating. The doctors at the hospital had explained to him that those who suffered from shell shock were repressing traumatic experiences they'd endured during the war. It was as if although their bodies had returned home safely, their minds were still trapped in the horrors of the trenches. There were some – his mind's eye pictured one man in particular, a young man named Peter Lord only a few years older than himself – who Edward feared would never be freed from the constant torment. It was these men he was thinking of now and worrying how the loud thunder and flashing lightning would affect them. They must have passed a terrible night.

Dr. Cullen had told him of a British psychiatrist named W. H. Rivers, who had presented a paper in December to the Section of Psychiatry at the Royal School of Medicine. Dr. Rivers' paper outlined the treatment of the neuroses arising from modern warfare and was published in February in _The Lancet._ Dr. Cullen was pleased with his interest in the subject and had lent him the journal to read.

The medical world was struggling with the concept of shell shock, but Dr. Rivers' approach was beginning to win praise, and Dr. Cullen, along with a local psychiatrist named George Baxley, had been instrumental in bringing the revolutionary new treatment to Chicago.

Until recently, the advice usually given to those afflicted was to endeavor to banish all thoughts of the war from their minds, as if the task was a simple one, a matter of merely turning the nightmares off as one would switch off a lamp. Doctors instructed their patients to direct their thoughts to more pleasant experiences, with some going so far as to strictly forbid them from any discussion about the war. Dr. Cullen had explained to him that, to a certain extent, that advice was perfectly sound, "Endless inquiries about a man's experiences during the war could be very detrimental, being constant reminders of painful memories. However, while it is one thing that those who are suffering from the shocks and strains of warfare should dwell continually on their war experience or be subjected to importunate inquiries, it is quite another to attempt to banish such experience from their minds altogether."

All thoughts of staying in bed were now gone from his mind, and Edward rose, intending to review Dr. Rivers' article once more before hurriedly dressing and joining his parents for breakfast. Several minutes later, when his mother knocked on his door, he was seated at his desk rereading Dr. Rivers' account of a young officer who had been sent home from France after being wounded as he was struggling to free himself from a mass of earth in which he had been partially buried after a shell blast.

"Come in, Mother."

"Good morning, my love. I was surprised to see your light on. I did not expect you to be awake. Are you on the lookout for cousin Timothy's thunderstorm monsters?"

Edward laughed at his mother's comment and told her he had been thinking of just that when he first woke.

Elizabeth Masen smiled at her son, shaking her head. "Ah, cousin Timothy. Well, he's turned out not too badly, I suppose, though one did worry for a time. Your aunt writes that he is doing very well for himself at the bank."

Edward could not fathom working in a bank. The monotony of the same thing day in and day out, with nothing new, nothing challenging, nothing exciting or interesting, would be intolerable to him. "I think banking would be rather boring, don't you? No challenge, just numbers and paper day after day."

"True. However, not everyone shares your desire for a challenge, Edward. What to you would be boring suits some people."

Edward closed the journal and agreed with his mother, "Yes, I suppose you are right." He then laughed and added, "I suppose boring suits Timothy quite well."

Elizabeth tried to look stern but could not quite keep the smile off her face. She had always felt it was shameful of her, but she could not honestly say she cared at all for her husband's elder brother, Richard, or his wife and son. They were always much too proud, in her opinion. Fortunately, her brother-in-law had accepted a new position at the bank three years ago, and they had moved to Philadelphia, leaving little but the most perfunctory involvement between the two families.

Richard Masen had never approved of his brother's marrying her; he didn't feel she was nearly good enough to marry a Masen, and he made no bones about it. Her husband had felt the insult to her deeply, much more so than she, herself, ever had, and the brothers had not spoken for years afterward. It was not until the illness of their mother that they reconciled. Even so, their relationship could only be called tenuous at best.

Their son, Timothy, used to torment Edward terribly when they were boys, and as always, Elizabeth laughed to herself as she thought of all the ways her son had gotten his revenge on his cousin. As a young child, Edward had been very small for his age, the result, she'd always suspected, of his having been born too early, and he had been an easy mark for the older boy. But her son was by far the more clever of the two and had quickly learned to outsmart his cousin.

Edward was relieved to see his mother happy; she so rarely was as of late. "I am pleased to see you smiling and laughing, Mother. What has you so happy this morning?"

"I was just remembering how mad your aunt was about the frog in her hat box."

The comment surprised Edward; it had been the last thing he would have expected her to say. As he rose from his desk and replaced the journal in the book case with the rest of his books, he remembered the incident. The hat box had contained his aunt's new hat, which she had purchased specifically to wear to the theater that very night. Ah, yes, that was one of his favorites. He kept his back to his mother as he smiled to himself, suddenly pleased as punch at the childhood memory. "Yes, well, Timothy always was a bold child."

His mother agreed with him and decided to let him know she had been on to him the whole time. "Yes, he was. He used to torment you terribly when you were small. I must say, it was a pleasure watching you exact your revenge over the years."

Edward was glad he had already replaced the journal on the shelf because the shock of what his mother had just said would surely have made him drop it. The self-satisfied smile wiped from his face, he turned quickly to face her. "What… I… Mother, I, I… I am sure I don't know what you mean."

Elizabeth arched her eyebrow knowingly and smiled, looking up at her son. It still surprised her to have to look up at him. It was hard to believe the young man in front of her and the tiny baby she had held in her arms seventeen years ago were one and the same. The doctors had told them to prepare themselves for the worst, but his lungs had been strong, and her Edward had shown them all. Even then, he had been a fighter. Now, he had grown so tall; he was over six feet. It may have been petty, but her smile grew wider still. He was easily four inches taller than Timothy and much handsomer. "Edward, I am your mother. You cannot fool me."

"Fool you about what, Mother?"

"The frog in the hat box, among other things." Edward was stunned at the conspiratorial gleam in his mother's eye. She had known the whole time, and she had approved. He did not know what to say. "Yes, Well…"

Primly, Elizabeth Masen smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt and lifted smiling eyes to her son. "Personally, I have always felt Josephine should have been grateful. That hat was atrocious. I do not know what she was thinking when she bought it. The frog could only have improved it."

There were times Edward was truly grateful to be his mother's son, and this was one of those times.

A particularly loud boom of thunder was followed almost immediately by a blindingly bright flash of lightning, and his mother changed the subject to more serious subjects. "I did have a purpose for speaking to you other than hats and frogs, Edward. I have been thinking of Peter Lord and the other patients at the hospital. I am afraid this storm must be difficult for them. The thunder is so loud, I am sure even in a building as large as the hospital it could be heard. You know how sudden, loud noises affect them. I am afraid they will be terribly upset today; perhaps we should arrive at the hospital earlier. Your father needs to be at the office early to prepare a case for trial. Can you be ready to leave in half an hour? If so, he can drop us at the hospital on his way. I do not care for the idea of taking the 'L' in this weather."

Edward agreed, "Yes, I was thinking the same thing. I was just reviewing an article in _The Lancet_ about just that. I will dress and be down shortly."

Edward finished dressing as quickly as possible and was combing pomade through his unruly hair when he remembered the letter to his cousin, Mic. He didn't have much time to look for it, but how long could it take? It had to be in his desk. Sitting down at his desk, he opened the hidden compartment once again.

His letter was right there, right where he'd left it. Thinking to himself, _I must be blind,_ Edward picked up the letter and got the shock of his life. It _wasn't _his letter. There _was_ a letter there, but it wasn't _his_ letter. This wasn't possible. Edward thought for a moment that perhaps he had fallen back to sleep and was dreaming. Last night, he'd put his letter in his desk, but then it was gone. There had been nothing there at all, but now there was this. Was someone playing a trick on him? But how? It wasn't possible. Did he believe someone had broken into the house while they were at dinner, stolen nothing but his letter and left, broken back in while they slept – during the storm no less – and put this letter in his desk while he slept in the same room? It was ludicrous. He stared at the letter for a few minutes before realizing it was addressed to him.

_Dear Edward, _

_I found your letter in the desk. Your mother will be glad to know, you won't be seeing battle in this war. It will be over soon, long before you're 18. An armistice will be signed on November 11th, and all fighting will stop at 11:00 A.M. that morning. The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. It will become known as Armistice Day, and then eventually Veteran's Day. _

_Become a doctor. Consider it your duty to care for those who fought._

_Also, you may want to reconsider insulting the intelligence of someone whose name you cannot even remember. Some may see that as arrogant or hypocritical._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Bella Swan_

Breathing heavily, Edward sat with his head in his hands, staring at the letter; he was so shocked, he could not form a coherent thought. This was impossible, unbelievable, and again he wondered briefly if he was dreaming. He had a very logical mind, but there was no logical explanation for this. His mind raced. His letter was gone, and in its place was a letter, addressed to him, from someone he had never heard of, who said she had found his letter in his desk–his desk, which was in his bedroom, where it belonged, at that very moment. He wasn't dreaming; he was cracking up.

Edward did not know which was more impossible, the fact that this letter lay in the hidden compartment of his desk, where no one could possibly have put it, or what it said. The war would be over in less than five months? It was too much to hope for.

Whoever had written this had read his letter and knew of his plan to enlist and his mother's worry for him. Whoever had written this had also read what he had written about Violet Carrington and the others, and had reproached him for it. He had not been at all complimentary. Not at all complimentary? He had been horribly rude. Edward squeezed his eyes shut and groaned loudly as his stomach churned. If whoever had taken his letter showed it to anyone….. He couldn't bear to think of it.

What was he going to do? Edward stood up and was pacing in his room in growing agitation when there was a knock on his door, and he stood there for a moment staring at the door, almost afraid to open it. This was ridiculous, he said to himself. He was afraid to open his bedroom door. Did he expect this Bella Swan to be there? He opened the door and their maid, Maggie, was standing there.

"Mr. Edward, breakfast is... Mr. Edward? What is it? Are you ill? Truly, my dear boy, you look all done in."

Maggie Keane had been with his father's family since before his parents' marriage. She was nearing fifty now, he supposed. She had come from Ireland with her late husband about twenty-five years ago and had been with his father's family ever since, working first for his grandparents. She was fiercely loyal and protective of his family, and he knew if she suspected he was becoming ill, his mother would be informed immediately. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before speaking. "No, Maggie, I… I am fine, just, just…. concerned… for some men at the hospital."

Grayish blue eyes narrowed as she appraised him. She wasn't convinced, and Edward held his breath as she studied his face. At length, her head nodded slightly, and she spoke, "Breakfast is served, sir. Eggs and sausages and toast. You make sure you eat up, young man; Nellie did not make it for it to be wasted, and there are starving orphans in France who would be glad of it. Your parents are waiting for you."

"Right, yes, of course. Thank you, Maggie. I am sure all I need is some breakfast. Please tell my parents I will be right down." The words were spoken in such a rush as he released the breath he'd held in, Edward was sure for a moment that he had given himself away, but Maggie's only indication she had noticed his rushed speech was a slight humming as she nodded at him again. Edward knew what that humming indicated; she would be watching him. He closed the door and fell back against it, breathing deeply. His legs felt weak. "OK, think about this rationally."

_ Rationally. Think about the irrational rationally. _

"Whoever this Bella Swan is, she doesn't sound threatening." If he had to describe the tone of the letter, he would have to say reassuring, consoling.

_...Your mother will be glad to know, you won't be seeing battle in this war. It will be over soon..._

"The war will be over soon. Could that be true? How could she possible know that? Over... But won by whom?"

_...Become a doctor. Consider it your duty to care for those who fought..._

That sounded promising, Edward thought, not at all like something you would say to someone on the losing side of a war.

The Germans had launched a very successful offensive in the spring; however, their losses had been very heavy and reports were that the speed of their advance had put their supply lines under tremendous strain. There were reports of loss of discipline in the ranks and looting as supplies ran short. Edward had even heard reports that they had resorted to killing their horses for their meat. If that was true, they must be truly desperate. Optimistic reports were now being spread that the German army was severely weakened due to their huge number of losses. To hope for victory within only five more months, though….

"Pull yourself together, Edward. Whoever this girl is, she cannot possibly know when the war will end. Are you seriously thinking she could? This is madness." Angrily, he put the letter in his desk and slammed the drawer shut, pinching his finger in the process, and went downstairs to his parents.

Edward found his parents in the kitchen, having already started their breakfast. "Good morning, Father, Mother. I apologize for taking so long. Good morning, Nellie. Breakfast smells wonderful, as usual."

Nellie was their cook and Maggie's niece. She was young, only a few years older than he was, but she was a fabulous cook already. She had been with them for only a year, joining them after their previous cook, Kathleen, left to care for an ailing relative. "Thank you, Mr. Edward. Mrs. Masen, I have the basket ready to go, ma'am."

"Oh, thank you Nellie, dear. Please leave it in the kitchen. I will come for it."

"Yes, ma'am."

His father greeted him as Nellie returned to the kitchen and, smiling, tipped the newspaper he was reading at his mother. "Good morning, Edward. Your mother has decided this Dr. Cullen I hear so much talk of needs fattening up. She has packed his lunch for him and is going to feed it to him by force if necessary. What do you think about that?"

Edward buttered a slice of toast as he answered, "I think Mother on a mission is a force to be reckoned with."

Elizabeth smiled at her husband and son. "Now you two, it is only a sandwich and some cheese and fruit. The poor man has no one to look after him. Someone needs to see to it he eats properly."

Edward, Sr. looked fondly at his wife and raised his water glass in salute to her. "Elizabeth, my love, you are an angel sent from above. We mere mortal men are blessed to have you walk amongst us."

Edward raised his glass to his mother as well. "Here, here."

Elizabeth brought her napkin to her mouth and laughed. "Really, such praise for a sandwich. Thankfully, it is not more. I fear you would have a statue carved of me."

Taking her hand and kissing her knuckles while she smiled lovingly at him, Edward, Sr. said, "My love, if I thought there was a sculptor in the world who could capture your beauty, I'd have him carve ten."

Edward blushed at his parents' antics. Even after all these years, they could be as silly as newlyweds. They were truly happily married, true soul mates, if such a thing existed. Nothing about them was for show; they were genuinely and deeply in love. Edward was caught in a daydream, hoping he and his future wife would be as happy together, when his father addressed him. "Edward, your mother tells me you were reading a journal Dr. Cullen loaned you."

"Yes, Father, _The Lancet_. I was reading a very interesting article on the newest treatment for shell shock. A doctor in England is revolutionizing the way it is treated. It's fascinating. There is so much we do not know about the mind. We are only just beginning to learn."

"You are very fortunate he has taken such an interest in you, son. He was the one who operated on Walter Cleveland's leg after the accident, do you remember, Elizabeth? Nearly three years ago it was, I believe, before the Burns murder case. It was said at the time he would never walk again. Today, he barely has a limp.

"Oh, yes, Elizabeth, before I forget, Mrs. Carrington came by the office yesterday. They have invited us to dine with them this Saturday. I accepted. I hope we do not already have an engagement; I could not remember one."

His mother had finished her breakfast and was wiping her mouth with her napkin. "No, dearest, we have no other commitments this weekend. That will be lovely. Edward, you will be nice to Violet, won't you, dear? She is a sweet girl, and she knows very few young people in town."

Edward placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head as he promised, "I will be a perfect gentleman, mother. I will be charming, witty, and utterly amiable."

"Oh, Edward, do be serious. She is a very shy girl, and a little kindness can go a long way, you know."

Feeling bad for teasing his mother – it was as much a part of her nature to take care of people as it was to breathe – Edward apologized. "I am sorry, Mother. I have plans to go the moving pictures this afternoon after I help Mr. Robards at the Red Cross. Joe Watson and Will Collins are going, as are Lillian and Irene Stevenson. If you would like, I could telephone Mrs. Carrington from the hospital and ask if Violet may join us."

"Oh, that would be very kind of you, Edward. The Stevenson sisters are such nice girls, and it would be wonderful for Violet to make some friends. I do remember your mentioning going to the pictures with your friends a few days ago. _The Million Dollar Mystery, _was it not?" Their vivid green dulled, and a tightness appeared around Elizabeth Masen's eyes that seemed to suddenly age her by several years. _Here it comes_, Edward thought to himself, _the inevitable, the dreaded_... "You won't be going to the Colonial Theater, will you?"

"No, Mother, of course not. It's playing at the Iris." Edward's voice took on a quality he only used when answering that particular question, no matter how many times it was asked. It was a patient sympathy for a loss that, though now nearly two decades old, would never be fully recovered from.

His father had finished his breakfast, and as he pushed his plate away from himself, their eyes met across the table. Rising, Edward, Sr. asked his wife and son, "If we are finished, shall we be on our way? I do not know what the state of the roads will be after that storm. There are likely to be tree branches down everywhere. Thankfully, it sounds to finally be dying down."

The bright emerald glow slowly returned to Elizabeth's eyes as her husband took her hand. Neither of the Masen men gave away that it had ever left.

The ride to the hospital was quiet as everyone thought of their upcoming day. Edward had managed to put the letter out of his mind during breakfast, but now that he did not have conversation to distract him, he found himself dwelling on it again. Bella Swan. The whole thing was fantastic. It was impossible, _but it had happened_. Impossible it may be, but there was no denying that it had happened.

Once his mother and he arrived at the hospital, they went straight to the volunteer station to let the nurses know they had arrived and were greeted by the head nurse, a very efficient middle-aged woman name Beatrice Denison. "Edward, dear, Dr. Cullen asked that you be sent straight to the fourth floor when you arrive. I believe it was a very difficult night."

Dr. Cullen was speaking to Dr. Baxley, a psychiatrist in private practice who was volunteering his time helping the returning soldiers, when Edward found him. "Ah, and here he is now. George, this is the young man I was just telling you of. Dr. George Baxley, please meet Edward Masen."

Dr. Baxley shook Edward's hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Edward. Carlisle has been telling me great things about you. I understand it is your intention to become a doctor. May I ask what field?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I had planned to become a surgeon, but I am becoming more and more interested in psychiatry. Dr. Cullen was kind enough to lend me _The Lancet_ from February, featuring Dr. Rivers' paper on his treatment of sufferers of shell shock."

"Yes, so he was just telling me. We have been discussing your assistance with the men, Peter Lord in particular. I had noted significant improvement as of late, but I am afraid this past night has set all of them back some. I believe you have made an impact on my patients, Edward. I thank you for that."

"They have made an impact on me, Dr. Baxley. It seems society is well aware of those who return with physical injuries, but the men suffering from mental afflictions are much more easily overlooked. I confess, I had been guilty of that myself."

"You are quite right, of course. If an injury is not easily seen, it is not seen at all. But, an injury to the mind is no different than an injury to any other part of the body. It has a cause, and it is our responsibility to find the proper treatment."

"May I ask, how is Peter this morning?"

It was Dr. Cullen who answered him this time. "I'm afraid he is not well. I was forced to sedate him last night. He believed the thunder was the shell that killed his friend and that he was covered in his friend's blood. He began screaming and clawing at himself. In his delirium, his strength was significantly heightened, and the nurses were unable to restrain him. He scratched himself up rather badly before I was able to arrive."

There were several men suffering from shell shock in the hospital at any given time, many of whom were not from Chicago but had been sent by their own doctors. Their families tried to visit as often as they could, but it was not always possible, and some had no family to visit them. Edward spent most of his time at the hospital just sitting and spending time with them. He filled the role of a friend, someone close to their own age. Sometimes they played cards; sometimes they talked baseball or about the latest moving pictures. Sometimes the men talked of the war, and sometimes they sat without speaking at all. He had been instructed to let the men speak of whatever they wanted for the most part and make notes of their conversations for Dr. Baxley.

Thankfully, most did not stay long before they were able to be released and continue their treatment as outpatients. Peter Lord had been at the hospital for nearly three months, but now that Dr. Baxley had taken over his case, he was making great progress. His family lived over two hours away and was unable to visit often. They had very little money, but as had happened before with other men, an unknown benefactor had arranged to be responsible for all of his expenses.

From what Edward understood of Peter's war experience, he had gone out after a German attack to find a fellow soldier and friend, but what he'd found was his friend's body blown to pieces from a shell blast, the head and limbs lying separated from the torso. He collapsed, and since then, he has been haunted with unspeakable nightmares of his dead friend. In the nightmares, the mutilated body of his friend would come nearer and nearer, until Peter awoke in a state of terror with sweat pouring off him. He was utterly terrified of going to sleep and spent each day in a state of constant dread of the coming night.

He had been advised by previous doctors to block all thoughts of the war, but that had only resulted in the nightmares becoming more horrifying still. Dr. Baxley had started tending to him following Dr. Rivers' example, and he was now sometimes able to speak of his dead friend in a positive manner. Just the other day, he'd spoken of him to Edward while they played cards together and had laughed. It was only for a moment, over almost as soon as it began, but he had _laughed_. A man he had known for not even three weeks had laughed, and it was one of the happiest moments of Edward's life. The nurse present at the time had nearly cried.

But now, all the man's hard won progress was jeopardized due to the storm.

Dr. Baxley excused himself to go to his office, as he had other patients to see. He normally came in after his office hours in the evening, but he had come in early this morning to check on his patients after the storm. Dr. Cullen was a surgeon, but he had studied psychiatry as well, and as he worked the night shift, he filled both roles when needed. Both doctors were on call for emergencies during the day, as were other local psychiatrists.

"I am working an extra shift today, Edward. Dr. Baxley had cases of his own he could not put off, but we both felt it necessary for one of us to be here today."

Edward was not surprised by this. His mother was right; Dr. Cullen did put in an incredible number of hours beyond his own shift. "I must warn you, Dr. Cullen. My mother has decided you work too hard and do not take proper care of yourself. She has brought a lunch for you, and if I know my mother, she is going to insist on watching you sit and eat it."

Dr. Cullen said that was most kind of her. He had only planned on running out at some point during the day for a quick meal.

The two men went about their business for the next few hours, and Mrs. Masen appeared with the promised lunch promptly at noon. Dr. Cullen accepted the gesture very gratefully, for which Edward was relieved. Some doctors he had met might have been affronted. His mother needed to return to her work, but she instructed him to ensure every bit was eaten.

"Come, Edward. There is a small staff lounge we can eat in." Dr. Cullen led the way to the lounge, which was surprisingly empty at this time of day, and they sat down to their food.

"Dr. Cullen? I need to telephone a friend. I will just be a moment. Is there a telephone I may use?"

"Yes, of course. You may use the one in my office. Is this friend possibly a young lady, may I ask?"

"Yes, sir, it is. The daughter of a new attorney in District Attorney's Office. She is very shy and knows no one in town. I am going to the pictures with some friends later today, and I thought she might like to join us."

Dr. Cullen smiled approvingly; he looked very pleased that Edward had thought to include Violet in his plans with his friends. "That is very thoughtful of you, Edward. Please, take all the time you need. I believe you are leaving shortly, are you not? Why don't you stay here after your lunch and write your notes up. This room is rarely used. Most doctors prefer to either go out or eat in their offices, and the nurses have their own lounge. You should not be disturbed."

Edward made his call and was gone only a few minutes, but when he returned, Dr. Cullen had already finished his lunch. He was surprised, as he didn't think he'd been gone that long.

"Is the young lady able to join you and your friends?"

"Yes, I said we would come for her after working at the Red Cross, and she and her mother offered to help as well. A large shipment of comfort items is expected from Rockford. The others will be there as well, so we can go straight to the theater."

"What is the feature movie?"

"_The Million Dollar Mystery._ It is playing at the Iris Theater."

"Ah, yes. I'm sure you and your friends will enjoy it."

"You have seen it already, Dr. Cullen?"

"Oh, yes, I am a great admirer of moving pictures and go quite often, whenever I am able. Of course, you are probably too young to remember it when it was a serial."

Again, Edward was surprised. Dr. Cullen put so many hours in at the hospital, it hardly seemed possible he would have time left over to go to the pictures. "On the contrary, I remember it quite well. I admit, I even persuaded my mother to submit an entry for me. Sadly, I did not win. I was young enough to honestly believe wholeheartedly that I would, and I remember being incredibly disappointed not to get to meet Florence LaBadie."

"There is so much sadness in life, it is good to laugh for a while. A few hours' diversion is a blessing."

Edward was surprised by the comment and thought the doctor seemed really quite sad as he spoke it. His voice had held such a longing that Edward found himself wondering about Dr. Cullen. He really knew nothing about the man. No one did. He suspected he was in his early thirties, though he looked younger. Edward knew he had not been in Chicago long, just over three years, and as his mother said, he was unmarried and had no family or close friends. Edward was sure he had not mistaken the sadness, the hollow loneliness in Dr. Cullen's voice just now. Had Dr. Cullen been married before coming to Chicago, Edward wondered? If he was a recent widower, that would certainly explain all the extra hours he worked, wanting to be busy, to not be alone in an empty house.

"Is everything all right, Edward? Is something on your mind? You seem a million miles away all of a sudden."

Edward didn't realize how lost in his thoughts he was, and he startled a bit. When Dr. Cullen asked if anything was on his mind, he immediately thought again of the letter. "Dr. Cullen, do you think it is possible for the impossible to happen?" He had asked the question before his brain could stop him, and he groaned to himself. He admired Dr. Cullen greatly, and now the man was going to think him cracked in the head.

"I don't believe I understand what you mean. Certainly, things that had once seemed impossible have happened. Take aeroplanes, for example; twenty years ago, people would have said flight was impossible, but now we have aeroplanes. And automobiles before that. I suppose a thing is only impossible until someone does it."

_Only impossible until someone does it... _

That pretty much summed it up, Edward thought. Impossible though it seemed, whoever this Bella Swan was, she had done it.

"Whatever is on you mind, Edward? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

_A ghost?_

Could Bella Swan be a ghost? Was he seriously considering the existence of a ghost? Of course, he and his friends liked to play with a Ouija board and hold séances, but it was just fun. The boys gently pushed the planchette around the board spelling things out, making the girls squeal and laugh, but no one took it seriously. No, he definitely didn't believe in ghosts. This girl had only known what was in the letter, nothing more, and if she was a ghost, why would she have taken his letter? If a ghost had wanted to scare him, and he admitted to himself that finding her letter had given him quite the scare, why not just sneak up behind him and yell, "Boo!" Edward mentally shook his head, no, definitely no such thing as ghosts.

This was good, he rationalized; consider possibilities, no matter how absurd, and eliminate them based on logical reasons. This he could do.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Dr. Cullen? The supernatural?" Edward groaned to himself again, louder this time. What was it about this man that made him ask ridiculous questions without thinking?

Dr. Cullen observed him for a moment, like he was seriously considering his question. "Ghosts, no. But the supernatural? I have seen things that science cannot explain. Patients who were expected to certainly die, but recover fully. Patients who were expected to fully recover, but die suddenly. Some people have been reported to do exceptional things under great distress, a mother who lifts a very heavy object that has fallen during an earthquake and trapped her child, for instance. I know some people, mothers and wives, have insisted they felt a sudden, dreadful sense of loss at the exact moment their son or husband was killed in action, or felt terrible pain at the moment he was injured. But is it supernatural, or is there a scientific explanation for it that was simply do not yet have? Or, is it nothing more than someone stricken with grief desperately clinging to some connection with their lost or injured loved one? I cannot say. If it is the latter, what right have we to take that belief away from them, if it brings them some measure of comfort? I find the longer I live and the more I learn, the more I realize how little mankind knows. Perhaps, there are some things the Creator simply does not want us to know. Perhaps, there are some things we are meant to just accept, even be grateful for."

Edward sat speechlessly. He had expected the doctor to laugh good-naturedly and suggest he had been reading too many books. He had not expected such a serious, rational response. Just accept it, even be grateful for it? Is he not meant to understand this, just accept it and be grateful?

"Is there a particular reason for your question?"

Edward was startled again; he could not believe how distracted he was allowing himself to become. It was very disrespectful, and wholly unlike him. "What? Oh, no. It was just… I was just thinking…. of something I read."

"Well then, I must get back to my patients, and I will let you get to your notes. I have enjoyed our lunch, please thank your mother again for me."

"I will, sir. Thank you." Edward sat and stared at the door for several minutes after Dr. Cullen left. Was he not meant to understand this? Just accept it and be grateful for it? Could he do that?

_I do not think a have much of a choice._

After quickly writing up his notes of the time he'd spent with the patients, Edward left the lounge in search of Beatrice to hand in his notes for the morning and found her at the nurses' station speaking to Mr. Robards.

She saw him coming and said, "Oh, there you are. Good, good. I was just going to send someone to find you."

"Here you are, Nurse Denison."

"Oh, thank you, I will see that Dr. Baxley gets them. Good night, Edward."

"Good night, Nurse Denison. I will see you tomorrow." He handed the notes to her and turned to face Mr. Robards. "I'm sorry, Mr. Robards, am I late?"

Mr. Robards was well into his sixties but had more energy than most twenty-year-olds. He was always in a good mood. It was impossible to be cross around him; his good humor was contagious. Mr. Robards always reminded Edward of a young child who had had too much candy, and he was very fond of the man. He didn't think anyone could help but be fond of him. The older man laughed as they walked out of the hospital together. "Oh, no, my dear boy, no, no, not at all, not at all. I am a little early, eager to get started, eager to get started. Pauline Lamoreaux at Rockford says it's quite a large shipment. Good, good. Our boys need it, our boys need it. But you'll be over there soon too yourself. Hope it won't come to that, hope it won't come to that. Got Fritz good and weakened now we have, so they say, good and weakened. Hope it's true, hope it's true. Finish this soon, our doughboys will, finish this soon and come back home. Far too many lost already, far too many." In addition to his good humor and energy, Mr. Robards tended to repeat himself. "Much to do, much to do. Much obliged to you and your friends, young man, much obliged. Strong, young backs like yours, much obliged, indeed. Not much good I'll be, I'm afraid, not much good at all. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, I'm afraid. Not much good this old back will be. Ah, well, mustn't complain, mustn't complain. Too many young'uns in cemeteries to complain of getting old, far too many."

Mr. Robards finally broke for a moment to draw a breath, and Edward was able to get a word in. "Two more people will be joining us, Mrs. Frank Carrington and her daughter, Violet Carrington. Mrs. Carrington is the wife of a new attorney working with my father in the District Attorney's Office. They are new to Chicago."

"Fine, fine, the more the merrier, I always say, the more the merrier. More hands make the work go faster. Mrs. and Miss Carrington will be most welcome, most appreciated, most welcome indeed. Good to see young people doing their part, good to see it. Everyone's got their part to play. And you at the hospital almost everyday, too, with our boys, good to see it."

Edward smiled at the older man. Mr. Robards sometimes spoke so fast, he had trouble keeping up.

As they arrived at the train station, they found a group of people already assembled and awaiting the train. An older woman named Constance Hardcastle was organizing the volunteers and checking names off a clipboard as people arrived. She saw them arriving and greeted them. "Ah, Mr. Robards, Edward, thank you both so much for coming. The train is running a few minutes late, I'm afraid, but it should be here shortly. We have a good number of people today, so we should get everything loaded onto the trucks quickly. Thankfully, the storm has passed. I do believe the sun may break through later this afternoon. A number of businesses have generously donated the use of their delivery trucks and drivers, and some bakeries have donated baked goods for the volunteers. Mrs. Carrington telephoned earlier, Edward. She and her daughter are back at the Red Cross with the other ladies preparing everything there. Rockford's is the last delivery, and the Army will be picking everything up early tomorrow morning."

Edward left Mrs. Hardcastle and Mr. Robards and went over to where his friends were standing. He had known Joe Watson and Will Collins for most of his life, and the three were as close as brothers. Joe was a year older than the other two, but he had been very ill as a child and missed a year of school as a result. The three friends joked and laughed together while they waited for the train.

"Do you remember my telling you of the daughter of the new attorney at my father's office?"

His two friends shared a look and attacked.

"You mean the future Mrs. Edward Masen, Jr.? What about her? Mother Masen still trying to marry you off to keep you home?"

"Yeah, what about it, Eddie? Have you proposed? Gotten down on bended knee? You going to stay home and be the little husband, _get your gun polished_ while we go off and kill us a bunch of Huns without you?"

Edward laughed at his friends' teasing, but he felt uncomfortable. When he'd spoken to Violet on the telephone earlier, she had sounded so grateful to have been invited that he had immediately felt like a cad for not having made more of an effort to be friendly when her family had dined with them. Of course, he knew his friends would never speak like that in front of her, or any other girl, but in teasing him, even far more innocently, they might embarrass her unintentionally. "Yes, yes, very funny you two. Her name is Violet, and I've invited her to join us at the picture show this afternoon, so try not to act like a couple of apes, will you?"

Will and Joe shared another look before breaking out into their very best ape impersonations.

"Oh, will you two stop it already? People are staring."

Will and Joe now switched to their very best scolded child impersonations.

"We're sorry, Edward."

"Yes, we're sorry. We will be nice. We promise."

"You have our word. We will be perfect gentlemen."

They were both losing the battle with their laughter at their friend's expense and soon gave up the fight.

"You must promise us something too, though, Edward. You must promise to let us be your bridesmaids."

"Oh, yes, Edward, please?"

"Her name is _Violet_. Lovely name is it not, Will? _Violet Masen_, sounds lovely together."

"Just lovely, Joe, just lovely, and the bridesmaids dresses _must_ be in _violet_, of course. It will be just lovely."

Edward was glad when they heard the train whistle a few moments later, as they were soon too busy unloading the boxes from the train and onto the waiting trucks to continue teasing him. It was as large a shipment as they were expecting, but they had enough men, and the work went quickly. They got everything back to the Red Cross building and followed the ladies' instructions on what went where. The work was soon finished, and a table with fresh berry tarts and pound cake was set up for the volunteers.

Mrs. Carrington and Violet were pouring lemonade and iced tea, and Edward introduced them to his friends. "Mrs. Frank Carrington, Miss Violet Carrington, allow me to introduce my friends, Joe Watson and Will Collins."

Mrs. Carrington offered all three something to drink. "We are very pleased to meet you boys. It was very kind of you to invite Violet to join you this afternoon. She is so looking forward to it, aren't you, dear?"

Violet was looking very bashful but smiled enthusiastically at the mention of their plans. "Oh, yes. I do so enjoy picture shows. Thank you again for inviting me."

Edward realized that his mother was right; Violet wasn't the least bit silly or foolish, simply very shy. He also realized that his friend, Joe, was looking at her like he had seen the sun for the very first time.

Lillian and Irene Stevenson arrived then and joined their friends. They had been busy helping their father write up the final inventory of everything that had been donated and ensuring all was ready to be picked up in the morning. Mr. Stevenson was an accountant and had left work to volunteer his services for a couple hours but needed to return to his office soon.

Mrs. Carrington offered the three Stevensons something to drink, and everyone helped themselves to something to eat.

Mr. Stevenson soon excused himself to return to work. "Lillian, Irene, I trust you will be all right with your friends. Mrs. Carrington, Violet, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Boys, good to see you again. Take good care of these ladies."

Lillian and Irene kissed their father goodbye, and the friends began helping clean up. Mrs. Hardcastle came up to them and thanked them for their time. "Now, you young people have done quite enough. Off with you. You are all off to the pictures, I understand. Go, go and enjoy yourselves. We can finish up here."

Mrs. Carrington agreed. "Yes, Mrs. Hardcastle is quite right. You had best be off. Edward, dear, you will see Violet home, I trust? She does not know her way around the city well."

It was Joe who answered as he offered Violet his arm, "We will see her to your door, ma'am."

They decided to walk to the theater, as it was not far, and the sun had indeed begun peeking out from behind the clouds. Joe seemed quite smitten with Violet, both Edward and Will noted. Once, when the two had fallen behind the others as they walked, Will whispered to Edward that it looked as if he might have lost his bride and would have to settle for being a bridesmaid. "Not to fear, Edward, with any luck, maybe you'll catch the bouquet."

Violet, Edward noted, seemed to appreciate Joe's obvious interest, but he did not know if she returned it. Once her initial shyness fell away, she was interesting and engaging to talk to. Edward had no interest in her for himself, but he found himself looking forward to dining with her family this weekend.

Back at home that evening, Edward excused himself to his room as quickly as possible and found himself seated once again at his desk. He could barely remember seeing the featured picture and was grateful that he and his parents had seen it three years ago when it was a serial, as it saved him from being asked questions he would have been unable to answer. He could not honestly say what any of the shorts had been about, but the others seemed to have enjoyed them, and he did not even remember if they had shown a news reel, although he knew they must have. Once the lights had gone off and the organist began to play, his thoughts had returned to the letter and nothing had been able to distract him from it, not even the beautiful and tragic Miss Florence La Badie. Dr. Cullen had said maybe some things were not meant to be understood, just accepted. Could he do that? Did he have a choice? He sat there with Bella Swan's letter in his hands. "Oh, what have I got to lose? If I am to go insane, I might as well enjoy myself." He grabbed paper, pen, and ink and began to write.

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Historical notes -

Dr. Rivers' was a real person, everything I attribute to him is true. Part of Carlisle's dialogue to Edward regarding Dr. Rivers, "…one thing that those who are suffering...from their minds altogether." , is a direct quote from Dr. Rivers. I used his actual words because I wanted to really have the right feel of how a doctor would have spoken at the time.

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The movie Edward and Carlisle discuss, _The Million Dollar Mystery,_ was released in 1914 as a serial of 23 chapters which would be played before the main feature film. The movie follows a secret society called "The Black Hundred" as they go in search of a lost one million dollars. It was later released as a feature in June of 1918, which puts it in with our story. In 1914, the serial was released with the gimmick that the last chapter was unwritten, and a contest was held for the public to send in the final chapter with a prize of $10,000. It was advertised as "$10,000 for 100 words." There were thousands of entries, and a secretary from St. Louis won the prize. (I happen to be a secretary, so you rock sister :-]) The main star, Florence LaBadie, played a character named Florence Hargreaves, who was actually reported missing as a publicity stunt. Plot details were fed to newspapers and the police as if they were real, and it took a week before they were found out. Florence LaBadie was hugely popular at the time. She died from injuries from a car accident in 1917. She was 29 when she died. No copies of the film are known to exist today. – Per Wikipedia.

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The Colonial and Iris Theaters were real. There is, as you can probably guess, a back story to the Colonial, but you'll just have to wait for it. Also, as you can probably guess, it's not good.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to my two Project Team Beta betas, DeanWinchester-myheart and StoryPainter. Also, thank you to all who have reviewed!

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This is the first chapter that flip-flops back and forth between 1918 and 2009, after this they all will until...

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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"It's not a problem, Mrs. Ruiz, really. I'll come right over."

Bella could hear her neighbor laughing on the other end of the line. "Really, Bella, I've told you to call me Sonia. You make me feel old. Mrs. Ruiz is my mother-in-law."

"Right, sorry, Sonia."

"Are you sure it's not a problem? I'm sorry it's last minute."

"It's fine, really. I don't have anything planned, and I could use the money. My mom and Phil are getting married, and I want to get them something."

"Oh! That's wonderful! Oh, he's so handsome! And so young! Good for her, it's good to see an older woman with a younger man for a change. It's been the other way around for too long; not that your mother is _older_, but you know what I mean. Oh, I'm so happy for her. He seems so nice. I'll have to come over and see her ring. Have they set a date? Is it going to be a big wedding?"

Bella smiled to herself. Nothing got most women excited like a wedding. For her own wedding, though, she thought eloping to Vegas sounded pretty good. Not that she really planned on ever getting married anyway. "I'll tell you all about it when I get there, I promise."

"Oh, good. You're really sure it's okay? I'm sorry it's last minute. They only just called, and Carlos is working on a paper for school. I can't believe he's almost done. When he went back to college, it seemed like he would never finish, but now it's almost here already."

"I'm sure. It's fine, really. Kenny and I are buds. We'll hang out. I'll take him to the park and let him run around so he doesn't make noise around the house and disturb his father."

"Thanks loads, Bella, you're an absolute life saver. I'll see you soon."

Bella hung up the phone as her mother walked in the room, hunting through her purse looking for something. "Who was that on the phone?"

"Sonia Ruiz, she got called in to work and asked if I could come over and watch Kenny. Her husband is home, but he's working on a paper for school. What are you looking for?"

"I can't find the card Abby gave us for that store she told us about that rents jewelry."

Bella was getting her purse out of the closet as she answered, "You put it in the address book by the phone."

"Oh, right."

Bella shook her head and smiled fondly at her mother; she would loose a limb if they weren't all attached. "I told her about the wedding. She's very happy for you. She said she'd come over to see the ring."

Renee had not wanted a diamond. She, Phil, and Bella were all born in September, and she and Phil had met in September, so she wanted a sapphire. She chose an emerald cut sapphire with a small, trilliant cut diamond on either side and two rows of very small, accent diamonds running along the yellow gold band between very fine white gold bead work. It looked both old and modern at the same time and was absolutely beautiful.

After making sure her cell phone was in her purse, Bella looked back at her mother, who she knew would be staring at the ring on her finger. No one could ever mention the ring without her mother stopping whatever she was doing to stare at it with a happy, dreamy expression on her face. "Earth to Renee."

"Very funny. You just wait until your day comes. I'm so going to enjoy watching you freak out over cake flavors and twenty different pink roses."

"No way. _If _I ever get married, I'm running off to Vegas."

"BELLA!"

"Gotta run, Mom, Mrs. Ruiz is waiting for me. See you later."

Sonia Ruiz was waiting for her at the door. The Ruiz family had moved next door to Bella and her mom when Kenny was just a baby. Sonia Ruiz managed a trendy clothing store that Bella knew was popular with a lot of girls in her school, and her husband, Carlos, worked in construction but had gone back to school part-time. Kenny was now a highly energetic four-year-old, who loved reminding everyone he was almost five by holding his little hand up with his fingers spread wide, and Bella adored him. She babysat several children in the neighborhood, but Kenny was easily her favorite. "Thank you so much, again, for coming at the last minute, Bella. I'm sorry you had to change your plans. Pamela and Lexi both called off sick and Tara is there alone."

_ What plans?_ Bella thought to herself. One of the reasons she got so much babysitting business was because she hardly ever, if ever, had plans. She was always available. The people she babysat for were all well aware of that, she knew, even if they pretended otherwise.

Sonia was giving a last kiss goodbye to her son before running out the door. "Mommy has to go to work for a little while, but I have a surprise for you." Kenny looked up from his plate of baked macaroni and cheese with his bottom lip already starting to quiver, but his mother continued before he could cry for her to stay home with him, "Miss Bella is here."

Kenny broke out into a huge smile and jumped down from the table, running to Bella, who scooped him up in the air and blew raspberries on his stomach. "Miss Belly!" Bella was his favorite babysitter; she played the best games and made the best voices when she read to him. He always called her "Miss Belly" instead of "Miss Bella" because she would always blow raspberries on his stomach.

Bella put him on her hip and carried him back to the kitchen table. "You have a lunch to finish, young man."

Sonia was slipping out the door before her son had a chance to remember she was leaving and to start crying. "Help yourself, Bella. I left it in the stove to keep warm for you."

_ Oh, yes! Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh yes!_

"You don't have to tell me twice, Mrs. Ruiz. Sorry, sorry, Sonia. You make the best mac-n-cheese." Bella used the hot pads to take the casserole dish out of the stove and got herself a plate of some of the best mac-n-cheese in the world. This didn't come out of any box. It was homemade and had diced tomatoes and was _so_ creamy. In short, it was little golden curls of heaven on a plate.

Around a mouth full of food Kenny asked, "Can we go to the park, Miss Belly? Can we? Can we?"

Bella smiled and closed her eyes as she took the first bite. Oh, yes, this was good. She would babysit for free any day of the week for a plate of this. "Do we talk with our mouths full, Kenny?"

Kenny swallowed his next mouthful and then apologized. He really was the sweetest of the children she watched. "No, Miss Belly, I'm sorry."

"Yes, we can go to the park, but you have to finish all your lunch first. Then, I have to rinse our plates and put them in the dishwasher."

As they finished their lunches, Kenny excitedly told her everything he was going to play on at the park. Once the dishes were in the dish washer, Bella told him to get his shoes, and she would help him put them on and tie them and went to tell Mr. Ruiz-sorry, Carlos-they were leaving for the park.

After about two hours at the park, Kenny had played on everything from the swings to the slides and had run all around with his arms out wide pretending to be an airplane. Bella knew he usually took a nap for a little while around this time, so she called him off the seesaw and told him it was time to go.

"Oh, please can we stay, just a little while? I'm not tired. I don't wanna nap." Bella knelt down to his level and told him he might not be tired, but she was old and tired and she needed a nap.

Wide-eyed, Kenny looked up at her in childish amazement. "You take naps, _too_, Miss Belly? You can share Franklin, if you want." Franklin was his favorite toy, a stuffed turtle named after his favorite cartoon and books.

"Thank you, Kenny. I'd like that very much."

They walked the three blocks back home hand in hand, and Kenny was yawning and rubbing his eyes by the time they reached his house. Bella sat with him on her lap on the couch and read to him for a while, and he was asleep, with Franklin curled protectively in his arm, half way through the book. Once she was sure he was sound asleep, Bella turned a movie on with the volume down low to not disturb him. Sonia arrived home just as the movie was going off, and Bella managed to get out from under the little boy without waking him up and thanked Sonia as she paid her for watching Kenny.

"I hope he was good for you."

"He's never a problem. We went to the park for a while, and he's been asleep for at least an hour and a half. Thanks again, call me anytime."

No one was there when Bella got home, and she took her babysitting money straight to her room. Now she had something to put in the hidden compartment in her desk. She wanted to save up some money to get her mom and Phil a really nice wedding gift, but she had no idea what and was running over different ideas in her head as she pulled out the drawer and opened the compartment. Setting it down on the desk, she started laughing to herself as she thought of the letter she had written. She felt completely silly for having written a letter to a man who lived one hundred years ago, but she had to admit, there was something kind of fun about it.

"I wonder if you ever became a doctor, EdwAAAAHH!"

Bella screamed and jumped away from the desk; she tripped over the laundry basket on the floor next to her bed and fell backward into her dresser. Sitting on the floor, trying to catch her breath, she stared disbelievingly at the desk.

_ You imagined it. That's all. You had to have. You're being ridiculous. Right. Of course. That's all. You imagined it._

After a few minutes, Bella calmed herself down and convinced herself she hadn't seen... what she thought she'd seen. It was silly. It was ridiculous. It was completely insane. Did she really think she'd seen… what she thought she'd seen? Crap, she couldn't even admit to herself what she thought she'd seen. "Right. Okay. You're not crazy… you just… you just thought… you saw… something… you didn't. Your eyes were just playing tricks on you, that's all. Right... so… just… just get up and… look again. You just… you just saw the letter you found yesterday, and, and… you just imagined... Right. Of course. All that's there is the letter you found yesterday and the one you wrote. You just…imagined… that… other one. Crap, now you're talking to yourself, and if that's not a sure sign of crazy…."

Bella took a deep breath and pushed herself up. She took a few short, slow steps toward the desk, trying to crane her neck to see into the drawer without having to go any closer. After several very small steps, she was able to see inside, and she stood, rooted to the spot, unable to believe what she was seeing. "Oh… My... God…. Oh, my God…. Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my GOD!" She hadn't imagined it. There was a letter there, but it was _not_ the letter she had written. It was a different one in the same old fashioned, slanted handwriting, written with the same fountain pen, and on the same paper as the first one. And it had her name on it.

"OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod."

_Breathe, Bella. Breath... Breath in, breathe out._

After several deep breaths, Bella went in one second from being frozen in place to almost launching herself at the desk and grabbing the letter. She was trying to read it so fast that, short as it was, she had to read it five times before she could actually comprehend it.

_June 25, 1918_

_My Dear Miss Bella Swan,_

_I fail to comprehend how you could have "found" a letter that was safely in my desk, but I would like it returned. _

_As for what you say about the end of the war, as much as I would like to believe it, I fail to see how you could possibly presume to know such a thing. The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month? Are you a carnival fortune teller, Miss Swan?_

_Lastly, Miss Swan, you may wish to reconsider reading other people's personal correspondence and then finding fault with them. Some may see that as arrogant or hypocritical. I remain, _

_Edward Anthony Masen_

"Oh. My. _God_." Bella sat at her desk, breathing heavily and with her heart racing in her chest, the letter in one hand and her head in the other. "I just got a letter that was written ninety one years ago... TO ME." Looking back and forth between the letter and the drawer, she made a decision and grabbed her notebook and a pen. "Sanity is highly overrated."

_Edward Masen? Son of Edward Masen, Sr.? Grandson of Richard Masen? The Richard Masen who was a Major in the Union Army during the Civil War? Edward Masen who was born in 1901?_

Bella looked at what she had written. It looked rather inadequate in her opinion, but what were you supposed to write to someone who was living ninety one years in the past? "Hey, guess what? Movies talk now." Taking another deep breath, Bella put her letter in the hidden compartment and put the drawer back in the desk. She stood and paced in her room so lost in thought that when Phil called her name, she screamed.

"Bella? What is it? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Bella started to laugh hysterically and couldn't stop.

_ What's wrong? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Oh, hey, guess what, I may have gotten a new pen pal. Yeah, his name is Edward. Oh, and by the way, HE LIVES IN FREAKING 1918!_

Laughing so hard she was leaning on her desk, doubled over, Bella was barely able to breathe. Phil was worried and came into her room; he had been in the hall when he called her name. "Bella? Honey?" He came and knelt down next to her and took her hands in his. "Bella, look at me. Honey, if you've taken anything I need you to tell me." His tone of voice was so deadly serious it made her laugh even harder. If she wasn't leaning against the desk, she'd have fallen over. She wasn't on drugs, but she did wonder if maybe she should be.

Bella tried to tell him she was fine, but she could barely speak, "I'm" gasp "fine." gasp "I'm not on" gasp "drugs."

Phil didn't look the least bit convinced. Apparently, sudden maniacal laughter for no apparent reason was cause for concern. Bella tried to calm herself down.

After several attempts, she was able to speak, "Really, Phil, I'm fine. I'm not on drugs." She started laughing again. "I'm afraid I do have bad news for you, though. Apparently, insanity runs in our family."

Looking at her like he wondered if that might be true, Phil said, "That certainly explains a lot. Your mom is in the yard, she bought some flowers to put in containers. We got burgers for the grill and salad."

"Oh, good. I'll be right out."

Still looking at her strangely, Phil went back outside. Surprised, Bella realized she really was hungry. Going crazy seemed to work up an appetite. Who knew? Fidgeting and with butterflies in her stomach, she couldn't stand it any longer and opened the hidden compartment back up and started laughing like a madman again. Her letter was gone. "Who knew going totally bat shit crazy would be this much fun?"

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Edward, is something wrong, dear? You have not strung two words together since returning from the theater. Edward? Edward?"

Edward looked up, startled out of his thoughts. It had already been a very long day, and it was not yet over. He had come downstairs with one of his favorite books, intending to distract himself, and joined his mother in the parlor, where she was seated knitting while listening to the Victrola and humming softly to herself. His father had just arrived home and was in his study, reviewing files he would need at work the next day. "I apologize, Mother. What did you say?"

"I asked what is wrong, dear. What has you looking so worried?"

_Am I looking worried? I cannot imagine why. Oh, Mother, incidentally, do you by any chance know if we have any mental illness in our family? I only ask because I appear to have suddenly lost my marbles and now believe that there is someone living in my desk, and she stole my letter to Mic. I have even named her. _

His mother was looking at him in concern, and he reassured her nothing was wrong. "Nothing is wrong, Mother. I am perfectly fine."

"Edward Anthony Masen," his mother said sternly.

_ Oh, no, _Edward thought to himself, _the full name._

"Something _is_ bothering you; it is plainly obvious. You have not said more than two words since returning home and immediately hiding yourself away in your room, and you have not turned a page in your book since opening it. You were so absorbed in whatever it is you were thinking of, I had to call your name three times before you answered me. Did you quarrel with your friends?"

He had to think of something to reassure her. "No, no, Mother. I apologize for my rudeness. I assure you, I am quite all right. I was, I was thinking about the men at the hospital."

"Are you sure, dear? Truly, you look quite pale."

Edward decided the best thing to do was to pretend to be feeling unwell and return to his room, where he could sit quietly not reading his book while very definitely not thinking about letters or imaginary girls as much as he wished until he was called for dinner. "You may be right, Mother. Now that you mention it, I do have a slight headache. I believe I will go lie down before dinner."

His mother came over to him and felt his forehead for any sign of a fever. "Of course, dear. Hm, you don't feel warm."

"It is only a headache, Mother. I am quite well otherwise."

Elizabeth knelt in front of her son and took his hands in hers. Her hands, as Edward knew, were much stronger than they looked, and her grip was unsurprisingly firm. "Edward, dearest, you are doing all you can for the men. The hardest job any doctor has is to leave his patients in the hospital when he returns home. You must also learn to accept that you cannot help everyone no matter how dearly you wish it."

Edward leaned forward and kissed his mother on the forehead. "Thank you, Mother."

Once in his room, Edward stood just inside the door staring at his desk. "Just… walk over there and look. Just… walk over there, open the drawer, and look." He remained just inside the door and berated himself.

_ You are a coward, Edward Masen. You have friends fighting the Germans, and you are afraid to open a desk drawer. _

Feeling rather silly, Edward walked determinedly over to his desk, looked in the hidden compartment, and immediately collapsed into his desk chair.

_ Why am I surprised? Did I not expect this?_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward attempted to steady his nerves before picking up the letter.

_Edward Masen? Son of Edward Masen, Sr.? Grandson of Richard Masen? The Richard Masen who was a Major in the Union Army during the Civil War? Edward Masen, who was born in 1901?_

"Oh, hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. Better to be committed for being completely insane than only a little." Edward grabbed a sheet of paper and his pen and ink.

_June 25, 1918_

_My Dear Miss Swan,_

_Yes, Edward Masen, Sr. is my father, and my grandfather was Major Richard Masen of the Union Army. May I ask how you know my family? As you read in my letter, I am 17, so, yes, obviously, I was born in 1901. _

_I must ask, have I lost my mind? I put a letter in my desk only to have it vanish and be replaced with yours. I have seen magicians, but I have never seen a trick such as this. I was told recently that some things are not meant to be understood, just accepted and appreciated. However, I confess, I am finding it very difficult to do so. I must know. How are you doing this? Who are you? I remain, _

_Edward Masen _

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

Phil was in full Master of the Grill mode.

_ Phil at the Grill._

Bella realized she really shouldn't think like that, or she'd start laughing like a madman again, and she was pretty sure if she did that, Phil might take her for a drug test. Or a mental health evaluation. Or possibly both. It was really amazing, she mused, that most men couldn't cook in the kitchen other than to boil water, but put them outside over an open flame and look out.

"Here is one fat, juicy Angus burger for my lady, another one for yours truly, and one lone, sad, little garden-so-called-burger-type-thing for our resident mental patient."

Renee took the plates from Phil as Bella tossed the salad. "Mental patient?"

Glancing at Bella from where he was going through his Proper Grill Cleaning and Maintenance Routine, Phil winked at her before answering Renee, "Inside joke."

As she sat down at the small patio table, Bella rolled her eyes at him and said, "Careful Phil, laughing for no reason, people might think you're on something or question your sanity."

Renee looked back and forth between them as Phil took his seat next to her at the table like she was questioning both their sanity. "I worry about you two sometimes."

Putting a slice of tomato on her garden burger, Bella said, "The burgers look great, Phil."

"Yes, they do, if I say so myself. On the other hand, that pathetic little thing on your plate… How do you eat that?"

Bella stuck her tongue out at him and took a big bite of her garden burger.

"Children, no fighting at the dinner table."

They both looked at Renee, who was smiling indulgently and shaking her head at them. She was glad they got along so well; she knew some families where that wasn't the case. The kids resented it when their parent remarried, or someone married someone with children, but then didn't want the children from the first marriage around. As much as she loved Phil, if he and Bella didn't have a good relationship, she wouldn't have said yes.

"Sorry, Mom."

"Sorry, Renee."

"But, he started it."

After dinner, Bella excused herself to go call her dad and returned to her room. She was now sitting cross legged on her bed looking at the desk. Should she look? It had only been a little over an hour, and she knew if there was nothing there she'd be disappointed. "Oh, for God's sake." She got up and went over to her desk. Drawer out. Buttons pressed. Compartment opened. "Yes!" Bella put her hand over her mouth and stood quietly looking at the door; the last thing she wanted was to have her mom come and check on her.

Nothing. All quiet. Good.

Relaxing, she squealed quietly in excitement and read Edward's newest letter several times. "This is really happening. It's insane, but it's really happening." This was three letters, including the first to his cousin, and with them all spread out in front of her, Bella noticed the dates on them for the first time. She had noticed the year but not the date. "One from June 24th and two from the 25th. I wrote one yesterday, and then one again today. His were yesterday and today, too, and this last one had to have been written within the last hour." Talking to her self and raising the letter to her face, Bella inhaled deeply and could still smell the ink; it was an indefinable scent, but she liked it. "Are you still at your desk, _our_ desk, right now, Edward?" She jumped up and got a pen and paper to answer him.

_Dear Edward, _

_My name is Isabella Marie Swan. I am 16, and I live in Phoenix with my mother, Renee Swan. Please call me Bella, I think we can do without the formality, don't you? I hope you don't mind me calling you Edward. _

_I don't know what is happening any more than you do. I'm wondering if I've lost my mind, too, but I've decided that sanity is highly overrated. All I know is the same as what you said. I found your letter in a hidden compartment in a desk I was given as a gift by a man named Michael Masen. Your desk. I felt badly for your mother, how worried she must have been about you going to war, and I wished there was some way I could let her know there was nothing to worry about. So, yesterday I wrote the letter and put it in the hidden compartment. I felt really silly, and when I went to get it earlier today, it was gone, and yours was there. Nearly scared me to death, by the way. _

_I think whoever it was who told you that some things are not meant to be understood, just accepted and appreciated, was right._

_Please, write back to me and tell me if you ever learned "Miss New Attorney's Daughter"'s name. _

_Your Friend,_

_Bella_

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

"Edward, are you awake, dearest?"

Edward was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling deep in not thinking about letters from imaginary girls when his mother came to check on him. "Yes, Mother, please come in."

Elizabeth entered her son's room and sat on the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"It is only a headache. I'm sure it will pass soon."

"I have brought you some aspirins."

Taking the tablets from his mother, Edward swallowed them dutifully with a glass of water, and after feeling his forehead once again for any sign of a fever, Elizabeth Masen pressed a kiss to her son's unruly hair before leaving him to rest a short while before dinner. Sitting up on his bed and looking at his desk for a moment after his mother left, Edward shook his head in bemusement. "Who _are_ you, Bella Swan?"

Dinner that night was later than usual as Edward, Sr. was late at the office, and it had been held late on his account in order for the family to dine together. Edward took his seat at the dinner table and greeted his father.

"Edward, your mother tells me you are unwell this evening."

"It is nothing, Father, only a headache. I went to lie down for a short while and have just taken aspirins. I am sure it will pass."

Nellie smiled happily as she brought in dinner, a roast with buttered beets which she and Maggie had grown themselves in their Victory Garden. Both women considered their garden to be their patriotic duty and, since America had entered the war, grew many of the vegetables for the family.

Edward's mouth watered at the sight of the roast, the smell of which immediately succeeded in temporarily driving the issue of his newly developed insanity from his mind. He considered himself as patriotic as anyone, but he readily admitted that the thought of the coming Tuesday was all that had gotten him through every other Monday for the past year. Along with his parents, Edward willingly adhered to the government's Meatless Monday campaign, and while macaroni with tomato sauce wasn't bad, he would never learn to like baked fish. At least Wheatless Wednesday was no particular hardship for him, having found he quite liked rye bread.

Nellie's brother, Patrick, a Private in the First Infantry Division, had shipped out last summer, and like all the family members of men fighting over there, both women were very worried for his safety. They wrote often, and today there had been a letter from him.

"More vegetables from your garden, Nellie?"

Their young cook beamed with pride and smiled widely. "Yes, Ma'am, and we have some lovely strawberries already. There's a shortcake for dessert."

After Nellie returned to the kitchen, Mr. Masen remarked to his wife that she seemed very happy this evening.

"Yes, dear. They have had a letter from her brother, Patrick. She has another brother, a younger brother, Thomas, apprenticed at a furniture maker. He brought the letter by earlier for her to see."

"Good, good, very good. What news? He is well, I hope?"

"Yes, the letter was written twelve days ago. He was somewhere in France, but he could not say where."

Edward sat and ate quietly as he listened to his parents, unable to fully concentrate on what was being said, and was glad for the distraction when his father spoke to him. "How were the men today, Edward?"

"They were not well, I am afraid. The thunder, it was not easy for them. Oh, Mother, before I forget, Dr. Cullen thanked you again for his lunch."

Elizabeth was wiping her mouth with her napkin as she answered him. "Oh, that is good, I am glad. He ate all of it, I do hope. I heard he joined you for lunch in the lounge."

"Yes. I asked if there was a telephone I could use to call Violet, and he told me I could use the one in his office. He had just finished when I returned, and we sat and talked while I ate. He enjoys motion pictures and said he goes as often as he is able. He said he had already been to see _The Million Dollar Mystery_."

His mother looked at him with a peculiar expression on her face, and it was several moments before she spoke again, "You did not see him eat?"

"No. I was surprised to see he had already finished. I was afraid I had taken longer than I realized. He must eat very quickly."

Edward, Sr. noticed the odd expression on his wife's face and asked if she was feeling well herself.

Elizabeth appeared to come back to herself and smiled, noticing the concerned looks on her husband's and son's faces. "I am fine, dear. My mind just… wandered… for a moment."

His father seemed appeased, but Edward still thought she looked like her mind was somewhere else.

"Mrs. Carrington telephoned the office to tell her husband she and Violet were going to the Red Cross, and that Violet was joining you and your friends afterward, Edward. He was very grateful to you for inviting her."

"I am glad she was able to join us. She seems thick as thieves with Lillian and Irene already, and I believe Joe is quite smitten with her." Edward discreetly lowered his eyes and tried to fight a smile as he said the last part.

The dinner things were cleared away, and the cake was brought in.

"It looks wonderful, Nellie. You have outdone yourself."

"Thank you, ma'am. I do hope you will enjoy it."

"Nellie, Mrs. Masen tells me you have had a letter from your brother. I am glad to hear he is well."

"Thank you, sir. He seems as well as one can hope."

Edward's thoughts had returned to the mysterious Bella Swan, and he wasn't listening to what his parents were saying. He realized his father was asking him what else he and his friends had planned, and he was still distracted as he answered, "Some of us are planning a ballgame for Saturday morning. Irene and Lillian were already coming to cheer us on. Violet will join us as well, with her parents' permission."

Elizabeth reminded her son they were expected at the Carrington's for dinner Saturday night.

"I haven't forgotten. I am looking forward to it."

Edward's mind drifted to Peter Lord at the hospital and the letter he had received from his friend, Albert. He and his parents knew so many men already over there fighting or about to ship out, and their family and friends knew more still. Not wanting to worry him further, he hadn't told his father all of what Albert wrote to him. Although he had only been there for such a short while, Albert had told him of wrecked, abandoned villages and destroyed homes, villages where not a single young man remained, only old men, women, and children left to carry on, of homeless and hungry orphaned children, of the ruin and destruction that in such a short time he had already seen. He wrote of suddenly, fully realizing why they were there and of drilling for hours in the heat, rain, and mud with a sense of purpose and a desire for vengeance. Edward thought of Peter Lord's experiences and those of the other soldiers whose cases he had read about in Dr. Rivers' paper and couldn't keep the words of Bella's first letter out of his head.

_...It will be over soon_… _An armistice will be signed on November 11__th_…_ The 11__th__ hour of the 11__th__ day of the 11__th__ month_…_ The fighting _will_ stop_…

"Could it be possible?"

"I'm sorry, Edward. Could what be possible?"

Edward looked up at his parents and panicked; he hadn't realized he had spoken out loud. What else had he said, he worried? "I'm sorry, Mother, Father. My headache has worsened. I think I will say good night, if I may."

Worriedly, his mother rose from the table and came over to him. "Look at you. You're trembling. Dearest, why did you not say something sooner?"

Edward looked down at his hands; they were in fact shaking.

A little relieved after feeling his forehead, his mother said, "Still no sign of fever, but your eyes look glassy, and you are as white as a sheet. Does it hurt anywhere else? Your throat?"

Edward stood up and held onto the back of his chair to try to stop the shaking in his hands. "No. It is only in my head."

_ Only in my head_…._ Oh, dear Lord_….

"By all means, dearest, go. I will bring you up a nice cup of hot tea with lemon and honey."

In spite of feeling like his legs were about to give way, Edward had to smile at that. Hot tea with lemon and honey was his mother's remedy for every illness known to man. Sometimes, if she deemed you ill enough, she added a shot of whiskey. "Thank you, Mother. Good night, Father."

When he saw how his father was watching him, sitting motionless with his napkin half raised to his face, Edward realized how truly awful he must look; he knew how afraid of a sudden illness his father was. It had only been two years since his cousin, Mic, had lost the use of his legs to polio. After feeling poorly for a few days, Mic had gone to bed early one night believing himself to have simply caught a bad cold and awoke the next morning unable to move his legs.

He could hear his mother reassuring his father as he left the room. With her nursing background, she knew that a sudden illness was seldom cause for any real concern, simply a cold, or at worst influenza, which would be recovered from in a week's time leaving you fatigued but no worse for wear.

Edward undressed quickly and prepared for bed. He desperately wanted to look in his desk but didn't dare until after his mother brought him his tea and made sure he drank it. It was only a few moments later that he heard his mother's footsteps in the hall.

"Here you are, dearest, nice and hot and strong. Drink it while it is still hot."

As Edward took the cup from his mother, he was surprised at how good the hot cup felt in his hands. It had been so hot and sticky today; he hadn't realized he was cold until he felt the heat from the tea, and he briefly wondered if he was actually getting sick. Even just the smell of it was helping to calm him; it was so normal, so familiar.

"I will make your apologies at the hospital tomorrow."

Edward hadn't even thought about tomorrow. He needed to go the hospital; the men needed him. They needed the normality of a friend to talk to, and he could not let them down. "No, Mother, I am sure that will not be necessary. I am sure I will be fine by tomorrow."

Elizabeth looked at him carefully. "Your eyes do appear clearer, focused, and your color is a bit better. We will see in the morning. Now, drink up."

Once his mother left him for the night, and after waiting for a moment to make sure she would not hear him or return unexpectedly, Edward ran to his desk and sank into his chair in relief at finding a new letter already there. "You certainly don't waste any time, do you, Miss Swan?"

_...My name is Isabella Marie Swan. I am 16, and I live in Phoenix with my mother, Renee Swan... _

_ Phoenix? Where is that?_

He couldn't remember ever hearing of a place called Phoenix.

_...Please call me Bella, I think we can do without the formality, don't you? I hope you don't mind me calling you Edward... _

He supposed formality was a bit silly under the circumstances. If somehow writing to each other as if by magic wasn't grounds for familiarity, what was?

_...I don't know what's happening any more than you do. I'm wondering if I've lost my mind, too, but I've decided that sanity is highly overrated... _

_ Well, at least I will have company at the asylum._

_...All I know is the same as what you said. I found your letter in a hidden compartment in a desk I was given as a gift by a man named Michael Masen. Your desk... _

_ My desk? _Edward became angry. Apparently, this poor girl had lost her father, and some con artist was not only taking advantage of her and her mother but was impersonating his invalid cousin to do so. He would have to learn where Phoenix was, find her, and put a stop to it immediately.

_Whoever it is, he must be setting them up, gaining their trust._

_...I felt badly for your mother, how worried she must've been about you going to war, and I wished there was some way I could let her know there was nothing to worry about. So, yesterday I wrote the letter and put it in the hidden compartment. I felt rather silly, and when I went to get it earlier today, it was gone, and yours was there. Nearly scared me to death, by the way... _

_Gave me quite the scare, too._

_...I think whoever it was who told you that some things aren't meant to be understood, just accepted and appreciated was right... _

_ It does not appear that I have a choice._

_...Please, write back to me and tell me if you ever learned "Miss New Attorney's Daughter"'s name. _

_ Will you_ never_ let that one go?_

_Your Friend,_

_Bella_

_ My friend, Bella._

Edward decided he quite liked that and smiled as he read Bella's letter through several times. The paper was like nothing he had ever seen before; it was all torn up along one side, as if some type of machinery had mangled and chewed it up, and there was something about the way she wrote that seemed... odd somehow, but he could not put his finger on it. Even her handwriting and the pen and ink she used seemed unusual. As he read the letter through once again, Edward suddenly realized what felt so odd about it and his mouth went dry. She wrote in the wrong tense. She wrote that she felt bad about how worried his mother "must have been", and she wished there was someway she could let her know there "was" nothing to worry about.

"_Was" nothing to worry about… not "is" nothing to worry about._

As ridiculous as it seemed, it sounded to him as if she was writing about things that had already happened_. _

_ But that is absurd, impossible..._

Edward set the letter down and scrubbed his hands over his face.

_This whole thing is impossible, but it is happening. Is it really _that _much more impossible? Is H.G. Wells worse than Oz? Could she really have met Mic? Or be going to meet Mic? She clearly believes she did, and that she has my desk. This desk. Or will. But what Earthly reason could Mic have for giving Grandfather's desk away? And why would he have it _to_ give away? _

He picked the letter back up but immediately set it back down and sighed.

_Not dated. Of course not._

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose.

_She knew how old I am but still asked if I was born in 1901. Good God, she wasn't questioning my age or when I was born, she was questioning if it was really 1918._

Again, Edward picked the letter up, only to set it down a moment later, and ran his hands through his hair, causing it to stick up in all directions.

_Could she really know when the war will end, because for her, it _already_ has?_

If there was one thing that Edward could not stand, it was not knowing something. He felt he had reached the point where he could accept that something impossible was happening; indeed, he had no choice but to accept it as the proof was in front of him at that very minute, but he at least had to know what that impossible thing was. For several minutes he sat trying to think of how to ask… what he wanted to ask.

_How can I ask her, if I can't even think the words to myself?_

He sat with his face in his hands for a few minutes longer before picking up his pen.

_June 25, 1918_

_My Dear Bella,_

_I was very pleased to receive your latest letter, because there is something I must ask you. Please forgive me, but I need to know. You wrote that the war will end in November, is that the truth? My family and I know several men fighting over there, and I must know. I understand I will not be able to tell anyone, they would think me insane or cruel, but please, I must know. _

_I truly cannot believe what I am about to write, but it sounds as if you are writing as if, for you, it has already happened, even though, for me, it has not. _

_I do not believe I have ever heard of a place called Phoenix. It is an unusual name, mythical. Where is it?_

_You will be very pleased to know that "Miss New Attorney's Daughter"'s name is Violet Carrington. She is a very sweet girl, not the least bit silly or foolish, merely very shy. She joined a small group of my friends and me at the theater this afternoon, and we have plans for this weekend as well. I hope you will forgive my rudeness toward her. _

_Please write again as soon as you are able. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

After putting her letter in the drawer, Bella paced excitedly back and forth across her room trying to calm herself down. She still needed to call her father, but she could not talk to him in the state she was in, and she forced herself to walk slower and counted to ten at least thirty times before she was ready.

Sitting cross legged on her bed, she waited for her father to pick up. It was unlike him not to pick up by the third ring, and she checked her phone to make sure she had dialed the right number. After three more rings, his answering machine picked up, and she was just about to leave a message that she would call back in a few minutes when he answered, sounding completely out of breath.

"Dad? What did you do, run all the way from the rez?"

"What? The rez, oh, um, no. Actually, I haven't been to the rez for while."

Bella was surprised to hear anger in her father's voice and even more so at the sadness behind it.

"What? Why? You're at the rez as much as you're at home. What happened?"

Her father was quiet for a long moment before answering, and when he did the anger was gone; he just sounded hurt.

"Me and Billy had a fight."

Her big, strong, Chief of Police father sounded like a little boy whose best friend had just said he didn't want to play with him anymore. Bella was shocked. She didn't know what she expected, but it certainly wasn't that. Billy and her dad had been friends forever, and she had never known them to have a fight. "That's terrible, Dad. What happened?"

She could hear him let out a breath, and when he first answered her, it was like the words were being ripped from him against his will... but then the dam broke. "I don't know. I don't understand him, Bells. I've never known him to not like someone before_–_I mean, at least, you know, not without good reason_–_but he just won't listen. It's like, I don't know, and it's not just him. It's the entire tribe. They've been like that since they moved here, but it's getting worse, and now, with Tanya, he's just, he went too far, and he just won't listen. You'd think they'd killed someone. The whole town talks about them, but on the rez, you wouldn't believe what he said, and he's never even met her, he's never met any of them, none of them have, and the elders have actually told people to stop going to the hospital. Can you believe that?"

Bella had no idea what her father was asking her if she could believe, because she'd lost him right after, "I've never known him to not like someone before." Her father was not normally one who spoke about his feelings, _at all_, and she could tell that speech had been brewing for quite some time. Even if she hadn't been able to understand most of it. "They've been like what since who moved to town, and whose Tanya?"

"The Cullens. Dr. Cullen and his family, his wife and kids. Well, they're not all their kids, two are cousins of Esme's, Mrs. Cullen's that is. They moved here about a year ago from Alaska. Tanya is a cousin of theirs. She's visiting." Her father hesitated for a moment before continuing somewhat defensively, "I know it's... a little... unusual, but it's not illegal. They're not actually related, well, some of them are, by adoption. If it was them, then yeah, that could be a problem, but it's not."

Bella's head was starting to spin. Her father sounded so unlike himself, she was beginning to hear the theme to the Twilight Zone in her head. "What's a little unusual?"

It was a moment before her father answered, "Dr. Cullen and his wife have three adopted teenagers, and Mrs. Cullen's two teenage cousins live with them, too. They're second cousins." There was another pause before he continued, and when he did, he sounded like Police Chief Swan testifying in court. "Mrs. Cullen's cousins are dating two of the Cullens adopted children."

Bella didn't know what to say. She could only imagine the scandal that would cause in a small town like Forks. Who was she kidding? It would cause talk in Phoenix too. "Wow, that's… that's definitely… unusual."

"I know it seems a little weird, and it's got some people all worked up. But they're only second cousins and only on paper; there's no blood relation, and they weren't even raised as cousins. People around here should worry about what their own kids are getting up to and keep their noses out of other people's business. The way the people in this town look down their noses at them, just because they're new to town. The Cullens are good people. The doctor, he's a real world class surgeon, Bells. He could go to any hospital anywhere and make a hell of a lot more than he could ever make here. We're lucky his wife wanted to live in a small town."

Bella was stunned. She couldn't remember her father ever making that long of a speech before. "Is that why the Quileutes don't like them? Sounds a bit stupid. Seems a bit extreme to stop going to the hospital. If he's that good of a doctor, what do they care about his family's private lives? Is that what you and Billy fought about?"

Her father, who had a moment ago spoken so forcefully, now seemed to have trouble answering her. "Um, no. No, it wasn't. He, um, he… said some things… and I said some things… and… um… yeah."

"Dad, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I don't mean to pry."

"No, no. It's not that. He just, he said some things… about... about Tanya… and I said some things… and… yeah."

_Tanya? The cousin? Why would Billy saying something about her make him lose it? Wait... _Her_. Tanya. Ooooh. _

As much as she hated that her dad and his oldest friend were fighting, Bella hoped it was what she thought it might be, and she tried to keep the smile on her face out of her voice. "Dad, who's Tanya?"

"She's, she's Esme Cullen's cousin. I thought, I thought I said that already."

_Oh, yes._

It was looking like it was what she thought it looked like it was. "Yes, you did, but if this has been going on since they moved there, _a year ago_, why did you lose it now, when Billy said something about her? What happened?" Bella was so excited that she was actually bouncing in place.

_Answer me that one, Father dear._

Her father's answer was so jumbled she couldn't understand a word of it. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

He let out a breath, and he answered her slowly. "I said, she asked me out."

Bella squealed and did a happy dance sitting down on her bed at her father's confirmation. It was even better than she'd hoped-_she'd_ asked _him_ out.

Her father misunderstood her silence. "Unbelievable, I know."

"NO! It's not unbelievable at all, Dad. Why would you say that?"

"Bells, you haven't seen her. She's, she's unbelievable. They're all unbelievable, but, she's just… unbelievable."

"Pretty, huh?"

"Pretty? Bells, she's… she's…."

"Unbelievable?"

"You're a real comedian, Bells."

"Sorry, she's beautiful, I take it?"

"Beautiful doesn't come close."

"This is so great, Dad. What did you do, where did you take her?"

"We went to Seattle for the day."

"A whole day, that's some first date. It went well I take it?"

"Um, yeah, it, um, it went... well."

Bella dropped her phone. _Just _how well_ did this date go?_

"You're going to make me beg for details, aren't you? What did you do on your all day long date in Seattle that went well?"

"Just, you know, touristy stuff. Went up in the Space Needle, I'd never actually done that before. It's weird. You can't see the building beneath you. It was cloudy, but visibility was still pretty good. Little windy though, and the building sways in the wind. I was pretty glad to get back down. Walked along Alki Beach, ate there. Went to the lighthouse."

"That sounds really nice, Dad. Are you going to see her again?"

"Um, yeah. Actually, Bells, she's coming over soon. We're going to watch a movie. I was just straightening up the house when you called."

"Gotcha. You gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

"Good night, Bells."

"Night, Dad."

Bella sat at her desk, grinning like a loon for several minutes after hanging up the phone. She knew she should study a bit, but she knew she'd never be able to concentrate. She was so happy for her dad. As far as she knew, he hadn't dated anyone since her mom. It was too bad she lived in Alaska, though.

Thinking about Billy Black's reaction was the only thing that dimmed Bella's good mood. Why would he want to ruin this for her dad? He'd had a long, happy marriage himself, and her dad was there for him and his kids when his wife passed away and then again when he ended up in a wheelchair due to his diabetes. She didn't really know him, she more knew _of _him, but she didn't think he was so judgmental. Her dad was a good judge of character; if he said these Cullens were good people, then they were good people. If Billy knew something about them, then, of course, that would be different. But how could he, and why wouldn't he have come out and said so when they first moved to town?

Thinking about her dad, Bella smiled again. He was never comfortable expressing his feelings, but to hear him stumbling over his words trying to describe this Tanya and rambling on and on, he had it bad.

_ God, please, don't let him get hurt again._

Eventually, she did pull her books out and study for a while and was sitting at her desk looking over the rough draft of her book report on _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ when her mother came to tell her good night. Tired, Bella decided her rough draft was good enough, piled all of her books on the corner of her desk, and got ready for bed. Before going to bed, Bella decided to check the drawer, not really expecting anything since it hadn't been very long since she put her letter there, and was both surprised and thrilled to find a new letter waiting for her. Climbing into bed, Bella curled up to read Edward's latest letter.

_...Please forgive me, but I need to know. You wrote that the war will end in November, is that the truth? My family and I know several men fighting over there, and I must know. I understand I will not be able to tell anyone, they would think me insane or cruel, but please, I must know..._

_ Oh, Edward, there's nothing to forgive. I know how hard that must be to believe. It must seem like too much to hope for._

…_I cannot believe what I am about to write, but it sounds as if you are writing as if, for you, it has already happened, even though , for me, it has not... _

Bella laughed. _Got it in one._ She could almost picture him trying to think of how to ask that. _How do you ask someone if they're from the future?_

_...I do not believe I have ever heard of a place called Phoenix. It is an unusual name, where is it?..._

_ How can you possibly have never heard of Phoenix? Oh, right. 1918. I wonder what the population of Phoenix was in 1918. Still though, it's a state capital. Be honest though, how many state capitals do _you_ remember?_

_...You will be very pleased to know that "Miss New Attorney's Daughter"'s name is Violet Carrington. She is a very sweet girl, not the least bit silly or foolish, merely very shy. She joined a small group of my friends and me at the theater this afternoon, and we have plans for this weekend as well. I hope you will forgive my rudeness toward her..._

_ You're forgiven. Hmmmm. I wonder just how very sweet you think she is? He went to the theater. Did he mean a play or a movie? I wonder if I should tell him "Guess what, movies talk now." after all. "Oh, and by the way, not only do they talk, but they are in color and some are in 3-D."_

_...Please write again as soon as you are able. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

_ My friend, Edward. I think I like the sound of that._

Good mood now fully restored, Bella tried to think of what she could say to assure him that the end of the war was coming soon. There was something she remembered, but she didn't know exactly when it happened; it may have happened already. She'd have to look it up to check. She was pretty sure her mother had already gone to bed, but if not, she'd just assume she was looking up something for school.

The computer was in the living room. This was one of the few things her mother ever went all "I am your mother, and I said so," about. She insisted on keeping the computer in a "public room of the house" because she saw a news report on T.V. about a teenage girl who had been sexually assaulted and murdered by someone she'd met Online. The girl was only thirteen, and she believed the person she was talking to was a fourteen year old boy. He wasn't. He was a 48 year old Megan's Law pedophile. The expert being interviewed for the show said computers should be kept "in a public room of the house", and her mother took it to heart.

Their computer, bought second hand from the school district when they upgraded, was about five years old and really slow. Finally, she got Online and found what she was looking for.

_Bingo. July. Perfect._

While reading, she found a link,_ July 17, 1918, _clicked on it, and was taken to a page that listed all the historical events from 1918 by date. She looked at June and July.

_Wow._ _The trial his father is working on is _actually_ listed. How cool is that?_

She searched for any information she could find about the trial, but all she could find was information about the arrest, nothing about the trial or the outcome.

_No good. He already knows about that._

She went back to the 1918 page and found something else.

_Oh. I didn't know that. "_..._torpedoed on 17 July 1918 off the east coast of Ireland... __...German submarine U-55... ...killing five crewmen..." Oh, that's good. Well, no, it's obviously not _good_, but it will work. _

She also looked up the historical population of Phoenix.

_Oh. In 1920 the population was only about 29,000. No wonder he's never heard of it. I'm sure he studied the state capitals, but, really, who remembers them?_

After printing the pages she needed, Bella went back to her room to write.

_Dear Edward,_

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After Charlie tells Bella about the Cullens, Bella's reaction is almost exactly as it was in the book when she's told about their dating each other, as is Charlie's description of Carlisle being able to work somewhere else for more money.

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Historical notes -

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The Masens' maid and cook have planted a Victory Garden. Victory Gardens were very common and very strongly encouraged by the government to supplement the nation's food supply, and by the end of the war, there were over five million victory gardens.

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I also mentioned Meatless Mondays and Wheatless Wednesdays. In 1917 President Woodrow Wilson appointed Herbert Hoover to head the U. S. Food Administration. Under Hoover, through campaigns like MM and WW, the U.S. population avoided mandatory rationing and voluntarily reduced the nation's food intake by 15% and in a one year period between 1918 – 1919 provided 18,500,000 tons of food for the allies. In November 1917, New York City hotels saved 116 tons of meat over the course of just one week.

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In the summer of 1916 New York City suffered a polio outbreak with over 2000 deaths. "The names and addresses of individuals with confirmed polio cases were published daily in the press, their houses were identified with placards, and their families were quarantined." - Wikipedia

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Spiral notebooks first appeared in 1934 and were featured in _Popular Science_ that September in an article on new inventions, so Edward would never have seen anything like a piece of paper ripped out of a spiral notebook.

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The movie Edward and Carlisle discussed in both the last chapter and this one, _The Million Dollar Mystery,_ was released in 1914 as a serial of 23 chapters which would be played before the main feature film. The movie follows a secret society called "The Black Hundred" as they go in search of a lost one million dollars. It was later released as a feature in June of 1918, which puts it in with our story. In 1914, the serial was released with the gimmick that the last chapter was unwritten, and a contest was held for the public to send in the final chapter with a prize of $10,000. It was advertised as "$10,000 for 100 words." There were thousands of entries, and a secretary from St. Louis won the prize. (I happen to be a secretary, so you rock sister :-]) The main star, Florence LaBadie, played a character named Florence Hargreaves, who was actually reported missing as a publicity stunt. Plot details were fed to newspapers and the police as if they were real, and it took a week before they were found out. Florence LaBadie was hugely popular at the time. She died from injuries from a car accident in 1917. She was 29 when she died. No copies of the film are known to exist today.

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_Thank you for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and to my two Project Team Beta betas for this chapter, Pain Jane and Madmum for their work.

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Edward lay in his bed, wide awake, and staring at the ceiling.

_It's only been two hours. It's too soon. It's only been two hours. It's too soon. Do you really think she lives only to write to you? It's too soon. Go to sleep. It's the middle of the night for crying out loud; you need to go to sleep. Look in the morning._

He had been repeating this to himself since he went to bed but was, if anything, even more wide awake now. Impatient, he looked at the clock in his room and groaned.

_ It's only been two hours and ten minutes. It's too soon. Go to sleep._

Finally giving it up as a lost cause, Edward turned on the electric light beside his bed and went to his desk. Finding a letter there waiting for him, his green eyes lit up, and he laughed out loud.

_Dear Edward,_

_ I think we've fallen into Oz. I feel like Dorothy. You're right, it's not 1918 anymore. _

_ I can only imagine how hard it must be for you to believe the war will be over soon. I know it must seem like too much to hope for, but I remembered something that will happen soon, and I hope it will help you to believe me. Czar Nicholas and his family are being held by the Bolsheviks, as I'm sure you must know. They will all be assassinated on July 17th. There will be an official announcement a couple days later that the Czar was killed, but not only won't include his family, it will specifically say that his wife and heir were taken to "a place of security". I remembered learning about the assassination, but I couldn't remember exactly when it happened. The announcement will say the 16th, but it was actually just after midnight on the 17th. _

_ Believe it or not, when I looked up the information on the Czar, I found a reference to the case your father is working on, the restaurant poisonings, but I couldn't find anything about the trial or outcome. I don't know why. It seems strange that I could find the arrests, but nothing else. Maybe with the end of the war, they had too much else to report on._

_ I found something else that will happen on that same day, but I'm afraid it isn't any better news. On July 17, 1918, the RMS Carpathia will be sunk by a German U-boat off the east coast of Ireland. U-55. Five crewmen will be killed, and the surviving crew and 57 passengers will be rescued by the HMS Snowdrop the following day. _

_ I'm sorry I couldn't find some good news to give you. I'm afraid history only records the bad stuff. Your letter is dated June 25th, so these things will happen in about three weeks. I know it will be difficult for you to know people are going to die and there is nothing you can do, but I hope it will reassure you that the war really will end soon._

_ I was sorry to read about the sinking of the Carpathia. I remember the Carpathia from the sinking of the Titanic. My mother and I went to a traveling exhibit of artifacts from the Titanic when it was here in Phoenix last year. It was incredible. I can't believe that's really the world you live in. Mine is so different. _

_ Phoenix is the capital of Arizona. I should have realized the population was much, much smaller in your time. Today, it is a very large city. Not as big as Chicago, though._

_ I'm very glad you are friends with Violet now. I am very shy myself. When you went to the theater, did you see a play or a movie? I do have some good news for you, at least. Guess what, movies talk now. What are your plans for this weekend? Another movie? I've never seen a silent movie. I'll have to see if I can find one online. _

_ Write soon and tell me what else you and your friends do. I know you volunteer at the Red Cross and hospital, what do you do there? Do your friends go with you? Tomorrow is Monday, so I have school. It's February for me. I'm sure I won't be able to concentrate on anything. I certainly wasn't able to today._

_Your Friend,_

_Bella_

Edward could not believe what he was reading.

_Well, you wanted to know how she knew the war would end. Now, you know._

He really had realized she was not… from his time, but to see her confirm it… was overwhelming.

_It's not 1918 anymore._ _When is it? When are you, Bella?_

Fully amazed, he sat there several minutes thinking about everything she'd written.

_The Czar and his family will be assassinated._

That, he had no trouble believing. The Czar, at least. Lord knows there had been enough rumors regarding the fate of the Czar already reported in the papers.

_The Czarina and the children, too, though. I can believe they would leave that out of their official announcement. Admitting to killing defenseless women and a child in cold blood would not win any support for their cause. _

Edward yawned deeply and coughed. He shivered suddenly and was surprised how cold he was. It had been so hot as of late, how could he be so cold?

_The Carpathia will be sunk? That's not such a surprise either. It is terrible, of course, but it could hardly be a surprise after all this time. Lord knows, the damn Krauts have sunk other ships before. Just weeks ago, the bastards sunk the President Lincoln. But she knows so many details... Of course she does, could you not look up anything you chose to in the encyclopedia? _

_ She found a reference to Father's case while looking up the date of the Czar's assassination? Where could those two things _possibly _be referenced together? _Why_ would they be?_

"In three weeks," Edward muttered to himself.

_She's been to a traveling exhibit of Titanic artifacts? In Heaven's name, _why_? What could the exhibit possibly contain? A few lifeboats and life jackets? _

_ My world is different from hers? How so?_

_ What does she mean by finding a silent movie–as opposed to one that talks–online? What's "online"? Perhaps she meant to write "on line"? On line? Must be what they call the theater district, like we have the Loop. Who in their right mind would chose to see a movie that does not talk when they could see one that does? Well, that settles it then, doesn't it? We really have both lost our marbles. _

"Tell me about your world, Bella, with your talking movies. I can't imagine you as shy. Tell me what you and your friends do." He wanted to write back right away, but now that he had his answers, Edward realized how tired he was. It was the middle of the night already, after all. _"_Good night, Bella. I will write again soon, and I want you to tell me all about your world."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Miss Swan, please see me after class."

"Yes, Mrs. Brewster."

It was now Wednesday, and Bella had not heard from Edward since Sunday. She'd woken up Monday morning so excited to check for a letter that she tripped twice in the five feet from her bed to her desk, but there was no letter. All day long at school, she'd been able to think of nothing but getting home and looking in the desk, but when she finally, finally got home there was still no letter. Tuesday was the same, worse actually, as on Tuesday and Thursday she had gym–which Bella hated more than almost anything–and gym yesterday was even worse than normal. They were playing soccer, which meant running while trying to kick a ball at the same time. Normally, they only threw the humiliations at her one at a time, but now they were hitting her with two at once. She couldn't run without falling down, and she couldn't kick a ball while standing still without falling down, and they wanted her to do both at the same time. Needless to say, she'd fallen down repeatedly, even taking someone else down with her once. The one thing that had gotten her through it was the hope of a letter when she got home, but again, there was none. Again this morning she'd hoped to find something, but there had still been nothing. Bella didn't know if she should be mad or hurt. Edward had written three times on Sunday, and now nothing since then.

_Does he not want to write to me anymore, now that I told him what he wanted to know?_

Somehow, Bellacouldn't make herself believe that.

_Was I too blunt? "It's not 1918 anymore." What was I thinking just coming out and hitting him with it like that? I couldn't have broken it a little more gently? Did I freak him out telling him about the Czar and the Carpathia? Does he just need a few days to come to terms with what's happening? Has he decided this is just too weird? Does he think I'm making it up? Making fun of him or lying to him? Is something wrong? Did he not get my letter? Has something happened? Is he sick? Should I be worried? _

Filled with anxiety that had grown daily, Bella hadn't been able to concentrate on anything all week and had been caught not paying attention in several classes. She was a very good student, so her teachers had been letting it slide, but it looked like her luck had run out. She was in biology, her last class of the day, and her teacher, Mrs. Brewster, had caught her not paying attention again. There were only ten minutes left to class, and Bella resolved to force herself to focus on what the teacher was talking about. She couldn't go on like this. Edward would either write back or he wouldn't, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Once the bell rang, Bella gathered her things slowly as the rest of the class hurried toward the door. She had never been kept after school before in her life, and she was dreading her first time. What was she going to say_? _"I'm sorry, but you see, my 108-year-old pen pal hasn't written back, and I don't know if I should be hurt, angry, or worried."

As they passed her on their way out the door, several of her classmates cast odd glances in her direction, and once the class was empty, Bella took her things and went up to the teacher's desk. She'd run through different excuses in her head and decided to go with not feeling well. She was naturally very pale; she could pull off not feeling well. If she went with something like trouble at home, her mother might be called.

"Please sit down, Bella."

Taking a seat in front of Mrs. Brewster's desk, Bella watched as her teacher came around and took the desk next to it.

"Bella, is there anything going on you'd like to talk about? It's completely out of character for you to not pay attention in class."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Brewster, I just... I haven't been feeling well the past few days, and I haven't been able to sleep. Maybe I should have just stayed home."

Bella knew she was a horrible liar, but she'd once heard someone on T.V. say the best way to lie well is to keep as much of the truth as possible. Well, she really hadn't been feeling _well_, so to speak, and she _hadn't_ been able to sleep. It was, quite honestly, none of her teacher's business as to why.

Mrs. Brewster looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure that's all? I've spoken to your other teachers; they've all noticed a change in your behavior these past couple days. Is everything at home OK? Is there a problem here at school with another student?"

Bella tried to reassure her teacher everything was fine so she could get out of there, but she was afraid if she seemed too anxious to leave, it would make her more suspicious.

_Really, there are over seven hundred kids in the sophomore class alone; surely, there have to be kids somewhere in this school who honestly need help. Why can't the teachers go gang up on them? _

Clearly unconvinced and disappointed that Bella hadn't confided in her, her teacher reluctantly relented. "If you're sure, then. You're a good student, Bella, but if you continue to not pay attention in class, your grades will begin to suffer, and you will end up with detention."

"I understand, Mrs. Brewster, and I'm sorry. I'm sure it's just a bug or something. It'll pass. If I don't feel better tomorrow, I'll stay home."

"Very well. Please remember, my door is always open if you ever feel the need to talk about anything."

So relieved was Bella to get out of that room that she all but ran out the door without watching where she was going and ran straight into someone waiting in the hall and dropped all her books. This week just kept getting better and better. Bending over to pick them up and grumbling to herself, Bella could not believe her ears when the person she'd run into bent down to help her.

"That was quite a hit, Bella. You should try out for the football team."

_Jason? JASON!? He's talking to me now? NOW!? _

Smiling a very uncomfortable, forced-looking smile, Jason picked up her books and handed them to her. His smile was nothing like the way he'd smiled at her when it was just the two of them working together on their project; then, his entire face had lit up. But, of course, Bella realized, they weren't alone now. Three of the other guys from the baseball team were standing behind him. She seethed silently; the prick was embarrassed to have to acknowledge knowing her in front of his friends.

_Oh, I am soooo making a Jason voodoo doll and getting the biggest freaking pins I can find._ _Upholstery pins... They must be big. Or nails. _

_ "_How have you been, Bella? Guys, this is Bella. We did that project for Crawford's class together. This is Anderson, Mark, and Kyle." He pointed out his friends as he introduced them to her. _What is he doing? He's trying to act friendly, but he looks like he'd rather have pins stuck his eyes than be here. Oh, that's good. Now I know where to put the second and third pins._

Just then, Bella realized two things at the same time. First, that she'd smiled widely as she thought that, and second, that these three idiots were so full of themselves, they assumed she was smiling because of them, because she was happy to meet to them.

_Jason voodoo doll might just get himself some buddies._

At that thought, she had to fight not to laugh out loud.

"So, how've you been?"

Bella was so happily sticking great big mental pins in little mental voodoo dolls that she didn't hear a word of what Jason had just said. "I'm sorry, I was just... thinking... about something. What did you say?"

Jason's already uncomfortable smile grew even more so.

_What's he playing at? He could've just said good bye and left by now. Why is he still here?_ As Jason looked more and more uncomfortable, Bella started to feel more confident

"I just asked how you've been doing."

"Oh. I'm fine. How've you been?" _Should I, shouldn't I, should I, shouldn't I, should I, shouldn't I… Oh, hell. I should. _"So, how was Brittney? Was it good?"

Jason's eyes opened comically wide, and he looked like he forgot how to breathe. Behind him, Larry, Curly, and Mo looked like they were impersonating gold fish, repeatedly opening and closing their mouths without ever uttering a sound.

Once Jason regained his breath, he barely choked out something that sounded a little like, "What!?"

_Smile politely, Bella, look innocent._

"You said you had a date with Brittney Logan. I was just asking how it went. Did it go well? It was Valentine's Day, wasn't it?"

Jason was gulping air by now and appeared ready to hyperventilate at any moment. Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest had managed to shut their mouths. Jason's words were jumbled, rambling. "Oh, right, um, yeah, she was, IT WAS, I mean_ it_ was, the _date_, I mean the _date_, it was good, the date I mean, the date was, um..."

Smiling innocently up at him, Bella acted like she had no idea what she had said or what he was trying desperately not to say. "Good? That's good."

_Well, that was fun, but I have a desk waiting for me at home, hopefully with a letter in it._ "Well, I guess I'll see you around then."

She turned and started to walk away, but Jason came after her and put his hand on her shoulder. Her first impulse was to shrug it off, but she resisted, and he removed it on his own a moment later. "Do you have to go so soon? I thought... maybe we could talk for a while."

_Why?_ "Oh, um, OK. What did you want to talk about?"

Jason ran his hand through his hair nervously and looked everywhere but at her. "Um, nothing in particular. Just... anything." He looked over his should back at his friends, who were all giving him impatient looks and stepped closer to whisper to her. "Is everything OK? I mean, you never get kept after class."

_He's worried about me? _"Oh, um, no, everything is fine. It was nothing." _He does look relieved. Was he actually worried about me?_

"So, how's your mom?"

"My mom? She's fine."

"Oh, good. Um... so... is, ah, is she... still seeing that guy?"

"Phil? Yeah, they're engaged, actually."

Jason brightened up a little but still looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. "Oh, really? That's, that's, great. I, um, you, ah, you said he was a ballplayer, right?"

"Yeah, minor league. He just started spring training."

"Right, spring training. He's... probably really busy then, right?"

"Yeah, he's pretty busy."

Bella glanced at his friends as Jason struggled to find something to say; the impatient looks had turned into glares.

_What's their problem? Honestly, it's only been a few minutes. Feel free to leave. Really, Jason, these are the people you want for friends? Really? Why?_

"So, um, Bella, listen... I was... ah... I was thinking, um... we were, actually," Jason indicated his friends behind him, "...we were... wondering... if maybe, if he wasn't too busy, I mean, if maybe... he could... maybe come by the field someday–just for a little while, I mean–maybe give us some pointers... If he's not too busy, I mean."

His words had been so jumbled that it took a second or two for Bella to make sense of what he said. It took several more to calm herself down once she did.

Silently, she raged. _You haven't spoken to me once _in weeks_, and now, when you do, you pretend to be concerned about me so you can use me to get to Phil? For me to get him to come to your practice? Are you for real?_ Out loud she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. He can't. It's in his contract, I mean. They're not allowed. Something about being representatives of the team. They're not allowed to do anything baseball related unless it's arranged by the team."

She would've sworn Jason actually looked relieved, except that would make no sense at all. "Oh. That make sense."

_ Yeah, actually, it does. I'm glad I thought of it._

Apparently, now that they knew they weren't getting what they wanted, his friends were ready to leave. "Jay, man, we gotta go. Practice is in ten, man."

Looking back at his friends, Jason told them to just go on without him; he'd be right there. "Coach'll make you run laps if you late, dude."

He looked at them again, growing visibly irritated now. "I won't be late. Just go already." He watched as they walked away with a mumbled "whatever" before turning back to her, and when he did he looked more at the wall behind her than at her. "I'm sorry about that, Bella."

Even as angry as she was, Bella had to admit, he did look sorry. "Don't worry about it."

Jason met her eyes and smiled; the smile didn't look forced, but it did look sad. "I guess I'd better go."

"Yeah, don't want to have to run laps."

In spite of his words, he made no move to leave. "Listen, are you sure everything is OK? I mean, I couldn't believe it when Kyle said you got kept after class."

Crap. How was she supposed to stay angry now? "Really, I'm fine. You won't be though if you're late to practice."

"Yeah. Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you."

Bella turned and walked away without looking back. If she had, she would have seen him watching her.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"What do you think? Beef or chicken? We really should have the fish, I think, but what should we have for the second entrée?"

At the stove, Bella was browning ground beef for dinner while her mother looked over menu options. It would be a small wedding, and they had found a hall that would be perfect. It was beautiful and had a wall of French doors that opened onto a patio littered with dozens of colorful planters filled with even more colorful flowers.

"I don't know. Do you think Phil would rather the beef?"

"He might. I'll mark the beef. I can always change it if he'd rather the chicken. Two vegetables... green beans, broccoli, corn, or mixed? Green beans and corn?"

"Sounds good. The broccoli would probably be either raw or mushy, and you don't like lima beans."

"Lastly, mashed potatoes and gravy. Good, that's done. I'll just make sure it's good with Phil. It's after six, he should be here soon."

Phil hadn't actually moved in officially yet, but he may as well have. He was there every day anyway. Bella had worried a little about how it would be to have a man around the house, but so far, it had gone smoothly. Second bathrooms really were wonderful things.

Coming up behind her, her mother asked what was for dinner.

"Beef with noodles and gravy."

"Smells great, honey. Where did you say you and your dad were going for Easter?"

Bella made sure to keep her back to her mother as she answered, "Actually, I was thinking, maybe we would just stay in Forks this year."

The surprise in her mother's voice was audible. "You can't be serious."

"I am. I mean, it's only five days, right? How bad could Forks be for five days, and we could always go to Seattle for the day."

"But... Forks? _Why?_"

"Well, anywhere we go is going to be crowded, and you know how much I just love crowds. Besides, Forks must have _some_ redeeming features."

"Name one."

_My dad lives there._ "I won't get a sunburn."

Renee laughed. "OK, I'll give you that one. Name another one."

"There's a new book coming out the end of March I want to read. I'll have plenty of time." Her mother looked like she just told her she wanted to spend her Easter vacation on Mars. "But... Bella, _it's Forks_."

"Yes, and it's only five days."

"Baby, you have no idea how long five days in Forks can be."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"It was great! I wish you'd been there, Renee. You should've seen it! It was great! I didn't think I had any chance of getting to it. I was playing shallow, and the ball just carried. I really didn't think I had a chance. I thought it was gone, but it hung up there, and I timed the jump perfect, and I snow-coned it just as it went over the wall..." Phil sighed dreamily and sat back. "It was perfect." His face was lit up with the smile he'd had since he got home, clearly reliving his moment. Whatever, exactly, it had been. Since getting home about an hour ago, he'd told them that story at least five times. Neither Renee nor Bella had any idea what it meant, but they didn't have the heart to let on. Phil always looked so disappointed when they didn't understand him when he spoke Baseball, and he was so excited about whatever he was talking about, they just played along. Once, when he left the room to answer a call, they shared their "look it up later" look. They had perfected that look in the past few months.

Bella couldn't understand what people liked so much about baseball. It seemed like a lot of standing around waiting for something to happen to her. Her father and Phil had both tried to explain it to her, but it seemed too complicated to be fun to her. Sometimes, when you hit the ball it counted and sometimes it didn't; sometimes, when it didn't count you got a strike and sometimes you didn't; sometimes, you got one of those strike things when you didn't even swing and sometimes you didn't; and sometimes-and this was the best part-sometimes, you got on base without ever swinging. Bella would never understand that last one: if you could get on base without swinging, why swing at all?

Thinking about baseball reminded her of Edward. Not that she ever stopped thinking about him for very long, but since being kept after school this afternoon, she was trying to not think about him every single minute. She'd forced herself not to run straight to her room as soon as she got home and check again to see if he had written to her yet, refusing to be one of those girls who sat by the phone waiting for it to ring–or in her case, sitting by the desk waiting for a letter. She knew Phil and her mother were going to a movie after dinner, and her plan was to wait until then to look.

"Mom, didn't you say your movie was at 9:00? It's almost twenty after eight." _I'm not trying to rush them. Really, I'm not. I just don't want them to be late. They'd have to sit way up front. _"You don't want to be late."

Renee looked at her watch, surprised. "It's that late already? We should go, Phil, I didn't realize it was that late already."

It took another ten minutes before Bella finally got the door shut behind them and had the house to herself. She resisted the urge to shout for joy and managed to walk at a normal pace to her room, but now that she was at her desk, she hesitated before opening the drawer and realized she was nervous. _And here I thought I've been being patient, but have I really been just stalling all afternoon? Afraid to be disappointed again? Right, well, he's either written back or he hasn't._

She sat down, opened the hidden compartment, and smiled.

_June 28, 1918_

_My Dear Bella,_

_Please excuse me for not having responded to your letter sooner. Normally, I have a very strong constitution and am rarely sick, but I have been ill and am only just today out of bed. _

_I cannot thank you enough for confirming that the war truly will end soon. I was afraid of offending you. Please, do not think I doubted your word, but it is exactly as you said, it seems too much to hope for. _

_It's funny you should mention the Oz books. I had felt that as well; however, it seems H. G. Wells is more appropriate. Are you familiar with his books as well? What other books have you read that I would know? "The Time Machine" was one of my favorite books as a child. I never could have imagined I would be a time traveler of a sort myself. I confess, I still wonder if I am dreaming or mad. It seems inconceivable that I am writing to a girl who lives in a different time. _

_There is something I am very curious about. You wrote that you remembered the Carpathia from a traveling exhibit of artifacts from the Titanic. I cannot imagine why anyone would offer an exhibit of nothing but some lifeboats and life jackets or why anyone would wish to see it. How could you possibly consider them incredible? I would think compared to your talking movies they would be very boring. I cannot imagine a movie that talks. What that must be like? Why ever would you wish to see a silent movie, as you called them, when you could see one that talks? You write that your world is so different from mine, but you have me at a disadvantage. You know what my world is like, but I know nothing of yours, other than that your movies talk and you enjoy very boring exhibits. I do not even know when your world is. Please tell me?_

_You asked about my friends and my volunteer work. The featured movie we saw is called "The Million Dollar Mystery". It is a feature film now, but was released as a serial over several months a few years ago. I must admit, I do not remember anything of it or of anything else. I was a bit preoccupied with the small matter of letter that had suddenly appeared in my desk. Tomorrow is Saturday, and we plan to go to a local park and play baseball. Violet and some other girls are coming as well to watch. _

_I volunteer at a local hospital with some men suffering from shell shock. I sit and visit with them. We talk and play cards mostly. I give notes of our conversations to the doctors. Many of the men's families live too far for them to be able to visit as often as they would wish. The doctors in charge of their care feel it is important for them to have some semblance of normality in their lives. I try to provide that. If they wish to talk of their experiences during the war, we do; if they do not, we do not. _

_As for the Red Cross, my friends and I do whatever they need us to do. Tuesday, a large supply of comfort items arrived from another chapter. We had to pick them up at the station and take them to our chapter. We already had received several deliveries from other chapters, and they were picked up by the army the next day._

_There is one other thing about which I am curious. You mentioned that you saw a reference to my father's case while you were researching the assassination of Czar Nicholas. I cannot imagine why those two things would ever be referenced together. They are so wholly unrelated. _

_Please write back and tell me about your world. What do you do other than go to talking movies and boring exhibits? I looked in our Atlas and found Phoenix. The current population is 29,000, but it says the population is growing rapidly. What is it in your time? I have to admit, I thought the capitol of Arizona was Tucson. I remain,_

_Your Friend, _

_Edward_

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Edward and his parents arrived at the Carrington's home promptly at six for dinner Saturday evening and after being shown in by the maid, were greeted by Mrs. Carrington. "Welcome, welcome, do come in. We are so pleased you could join us."

His mother thanked her for the invitation, and they were led into the parlor where Mr. Carrington and Violet were waiting. The two families chatted together for a while before drifting into three groups of two. The two men discussed various cases coming up for trial, and Mrs. Masen and Mrs. Carrington were seated next to each other by a large bay window overlooking the side yard featuring well maintained flower beds containing a riot of colors and discussed the dance being planned for the fall for the Red Cross. Edward and Violet discussed the baseball game that morning, and though Edward noticed that she frequently mentioned the hit Joe got, or the ball Joe caught, or the run Joe scored, he did not show it.

His mother had not wanted him to go this morning. She felt he had been too ill and should not exert himself so soon. He had fallen ill overnight on Tuesday and did not get out of bed again until late Friday morning. His fever had broken and the pain in his head and joints had gone, but he'd still had no appetite and had still been so desperately tired that he had spent most of the day in his room. That morning, however, he'd been so full of energy he'd had trouble sitting still, and he'd badly wanted to get outside. He'd had to promise over and over to not over exert himself and to come home and rest before dinner.

He'd also needed the distraction. If he'd stayed home, he'd have been able to think of nothing but Bella. The first thing he had done after waking, once his mother had left him, was to write to her. His head had been so full of questions for her and still was... Whenever she was, she had read the Oz books too. They'd never been favorites of his, but he loved having something in common with her. He hoped she had read H. G. Wells as well. Had she read _Dracula? _Or _Frankenstein_? He didn't think she was likely to scare easily.

_She described herself as shy, but I cannot see her that way._

Did she prefer mysteries? Perhaps Sherlock Holmes? Or was Mark Twain more her style? He himself had always preferred the fantasy and adventure of Jules Verne or Jonathan Swift's _Gulliver's Travels _over Twain, but whatever books she preferred, if they existed in his time, he would find them and read them so they could discuss them together

Edward tried not to think about some of the other things she had told him that would happen soon, but it was no use. She'd been right; it was difficult to know people were going to die and there was nothing he could do. Everyone enjoyed going to fortunetellers at carnivals and amusement parks, but Edward didn't think he would ever be able go to one again. It was all good fun to be told you will marry happily, have a dozen healthy children, and live to a ripe old age, but genuinely knowing what was coming, the bad as well as the good, and knowing there was no way to stop it, was a burden he would not wish on anyone.

After dinner, they had coffee while Violet played for them on the piano. She played very well, but Edward was getting anxious to get home and see if there was a letter yet. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he was pulled from his thoughts as his parents and the Carrington's applauded Violet as she finished playing. He quickly joined in and was grateful when his parents soon stood and thanked the Carrington's for a lovely evening.

Immediately upon arriving home, Edward wished his parents good night and went straight to his room to look in his desk. He was not disappointed.

_Dear Edward,_

_I 'm sorry you were sick, I'm glad you're feeling better. _

_I've never actually read "The Wizard of Oz". I've only seen the movie. I didn't even know it was a series of books. I thought it was just one book. "The Wizard of Oz" is probably one of the most famous movies ever made. I don't think there's anyone who hasn't seen it. I've never read "The Time Machine" either, but I will. That's been made into a movie, too. A lot of books have been. What are some of your favorite books? I'd like to read them so we can talk about them. I love to read, but not too many people do anymore, especially people our age. Jane Austen is one of my favorites, also "Wuthering Heights". I love Agatha Christie, but you've got a couple more years to wait for her. She's a mystery writer. Her first book is already written, "The Mysterious Affair at Styles", but it won't be published until 1920. I was thrilled the first time I figured out who the murderer was, but I had the motive totally wrong._

_You may want to sit down for this next part. I laughed when I read what you wrote about an exhibit with only lifeboats and life jackets. You must've thought I was insane. The Titanic is the most famous ship in history. Are you sitting down? It was found in 1985, and the traveling exhibit I mentioned has items recovered from the ocean floor. They have a huge steel door the first class passengers entered through, the remains of a crystal chandelier from the first class restaurant, personal things like hairbrushes and hair tonic bottles, toothpaste containers, and jewelry. There's a rose gold bracelet with the name 'Amy' spelled out in diamonds. They have dishes and crystal that are incredibly unbroken. When you enter the exhibit, you're handed a boarding pass with an actual passenger's name on it and what class they were in. There's a wall with the names of all the passengers and who lived or died to check you passenger's name against. My passenger died and the body was never found, or if it was, it was never identified. Please don't think we're barbaric. A lot of people disagree with salvaging items from Titanic. They think of it as grave robbing, but I think they're wrong. It was very moving. Seeing that bracelet with the name 'Amy' on it, I couldn't take my eyes off it. It made it feel real. A real person wore that bracelet, and she did not want to die that night. She had a life, and a family, and plans... Her life should not have been cut short. It was such an enormous tragedy that it's easy to get caught up in numbers. It's hard to remember, but it wasn't one single tragedy, it was fifteen hundred individual tragedies. The victims became real people again, not just more anonymous casualties, through something as commonplace as a toothbrush._

_Your father's case and the assassination of the Czar weren't referenced together. We have machines called computers that we use to look up information on everything. Try to imaging an encyclopedia, a dictionary, all your school books, actually, practically every book ever written, really, all made into a machine. Imagine a machine in a box that contains information on everything and anything imaginable. That is what I used to look up the information on the Czar. Information is cross-referenced with links. A link can take you from one subject to another. The date was a link from the information on the Czar to a list of events from 1918. That list is where I found the information on your father's case and the sinking of the Carpathia. _

_Tucson? Honestly, Edward. Tucson? Really? The population of Phoenix today is about 1,600,000. We're the sixth biggest city in the country. Which, incidentally, has fifty states now. Chicago has about 2,800,000 people. It's the third biggest city in the country._

_What is it with baseball? My father loves baseball, too. My mother is remarrying this November, and her fiancé is a baseball player. They have both tried to explain it to me, but I just don't see what people like about it so much. It seems like a lot of standing around waiting for something to happen. Did your team win? You'll be glad to know, the Chicago White Sox are still around. So are the Cubs._

_My parents divorced when I was a baby. My father lives in a small town in Washington called Forks. He is Chief of Police, and my mother is a teacher. I don't play any sports. Actually, I'm so clumsy I'm a danger to those around me just walking. Mostly, I read, and I baby sit. I hope I haven't just made you not want to write to me anymore. I'm afraid I'm probably not someone your parents would want you to be friends with. I know divorce used to be seen as something to be ashamed of._

_Lastly, you asked me when I am. You may want to sit down again. Today's date is February 25, 2009._

_I hope you will still write to me._

_Your friend, _

_Bella_

_ Today's date is February 25, 2009. Today's date is February 25, 2009. Today's date is February 25, 2009. Today's date is February 25, 2009._

Edward had not been able to get that one sentence out of his head since he read it four days ago. He was sitting in the doctor's lounge at the hospital after spending the morning with the men. He had written a few lines of notes, but there was really very little for him to report on today. Someone had recently very generously donated a very nice phonograph and several records for the men to listen to, and they had spent most of the morning dancing with the nurses and enjoyed it very much. Edward was grateful they had something they enjoyed, especially since it left him free to let his mind wander.

_Today's date is February 25, 2009. _He could scarcely believe it. _It clearly wasn't Mic who gave her the desk._

It surprised Edward how incredibly disappointed he was. He hadn't realized it until he knew it could never happen, but he had hoped they could one day 'd already told him her world was very different from his. He should have understood then that she was more than just a few years, or even a decade or two, away from him. But technology was advancing so quickly, and he supposed he'd thought she was exaggerating. She hadn't been.

_ I will be dead decades before she is even born._ _Is that why she never dated her letters? She is 91 years away from me. What good is a miracle if it only shows me what I can never have? _

Disappointed and depressed, Edward had been sitting and looking out the window for the past half hour without writing a single word. The overcast, gray sky matched his mood perfectly.

No one could ever remember a summer with worse weather, and the whole city was complaining about it. It was unbearably hot and cloudy, if not raining, almost every day.

Edward was startled when Dr. Cullen came in and sat next to him. He hadn't known he was working again today and hadn't heard him come in until he pulled out a chair to sit down.

"Is anything wrong, Edward? You've been in here quite some time."

Still a little embarrassed after the ridiculous questions he had asked the man last week, Edward tried to not put his foot in it again. "No, sir. Everything is fine. I… was just… lost in thought, I suppose."

Dr. Cullen did not look convinced. "Are you sure? I do not mean to pry, my boy, but you look like a man who just lost his best friend."

Edward couldn't help laughing piteously. Had he? It had been such a short time since he got Bella's first letter, but she had become very important to him in that short period of time. His best friends had always been Joe and Will, ever since they were children. Were they still? He remembered the way it had felt to see her sign a letter _Your Friend_ for the first time, and it reminded him of the look on Joe's face the first time he saw Violet at the Red Cross. Is that why it saddened him so much to know they could never meet? Had he, without realizing it, come to care for her that much so quickly? To hope they would one day be more than friends? The realization that he had took his breath away.

_ Today's date is February 25, 2009._

"Edward?"

At the sound of his name, Edward turned and looked at the doctor and debated with himself for barely a second before coming to a decision. "Do you believe in miracles Dr. Cullen? In soul mates?" He no longer felt any of the self-consciousness he had earlier. His mother had always been a shrewd judge of character, always able to see what a person was behind the masks they wore, and she told him he had inherited that from her. There was something about Dr. Cullen that told him he could trust him, that somehow, the oddest questions wouldn't seem odd to him, that nothing would surprise or shock him.

"Yes, I do. In both."

Edward voiced the question he had thought to himself earlier, "What good is a miracle, if it only shows me what I can never have?"

"What makes you so sure you can never have it?"

Dropping his head into hands and running his hands through his hair, Edward laughed sadly. "Believe me, sir. If I live to be one hundred, I could never have it."

_One hundred years... 2001. She'd be about eight-years-old._ '_Today's date is February 25, 2009.' She's not even in my century._

Dr. Cullen laughed the same sad laugh Edward had a moment before. "I am afraid, Edward, that I have asked myself that same question many times but have never gotten an answer. If you ever find out, please do let me know."

Looking up, Edward stared out the window again for a moment before changing the subject. "The men enjoyed the music this morning. It was a very generous gift. Do you know who donated it?" "No, I do not. It was given anonymously. I have spoken to some of the nurses, and they also said how much the men enjoyed it. It is good to see them recovering." Dr. Cullen was silent for a moment before adding in a quiet voice, "They've suffered so much, lost so much. If I've helped ease their pain, helped them regain their lives, I hope it may be enough."

It was said so quietly Edward was not sure if it was said to him, or if the other man was speaking to himself. Possibly, he wasn't even aware he'd spoke the words aloud. The words almost sounded like a prayer for forgiveness, as if he blamed himself for someone's pain and suffering or for their death, and he was trying to atone for it by helping others.

Edward found himself wondering again about the doctor's past. If Dr. Cullen had been married and lost his wife, did he blame himself for not saving her? The doctor was looking out the window now staring morosely at the cloudy sky, and Edward remembered what his mother had said about the hardest job any doctor had was to leave their patients in the hospital when they returned home and accepting that you cannot save everyone. But what if the patient you had to leave in the hospital was someone who belonged in your home? What if the patient you weren't able to save was someone you loved?

Dr. Cullen quickly pulled himself together and excused himself, but before he left he looked at him and said, "Edward, whatever your miracle is, hold onto it tightly. Do not question it. It may not be what you expected, or what you wanted, but it will be what you need." He smiled at him, looking content again, and continued. "The Lord works in mysterious ways. Let us not forget that. We may not know what He is doing, but we must trust that He does."

Edward felt as if he had been trapped inside a fog for the past few days since Bella's last letter, but the fog had finally cleared after his conversation with Dr. Cullen. He had become so focused on what he could never have, he had lost sight of what he did have.

He had sent a short letter to her immediately after reading her letter to assure her she had not scared him off, but since then he had been unable to get passed "My Dear Bella". The fog now gone, Edward's mind was clear, and he could think of nothing but writing to Bella. She had told him so much... but he wanted to know more, and he wanted her to know him. She had asked if his team had won the baseball game Saturday morning, and he wanted to tell her about the double play he'd been part of.

_A lot of standing around waiting for something to happen... Oh, Bella, I have my work cut out for me, haven't I?_

There was so much he wanted to tell her, to ask her, that the hardest part was deciding what to write first.

_How could I have not known what to write?_

Once he arrived home he ran straight to his room and grabbed his pen and ink.

_My Dear Bella,_

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and to my two Project Team Beta betas for this chapter, Pain Jane and Madmum for their work.

Historical note _-_

The Carpathia was the ship that picked up the Titanic survivors; it really was sunk the same day the Czar was assassinated.

Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you so much to everyone who had read and reviewed so far! I'm so thrilled with how well received this story has been! And a special thanks to my PTB beta, Thir13enth! .

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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"Look at me, Miss Belly! I'm an airplane!"

Bella laughed as Kenny ran around the playground with his arms spread out wide. "Yes, you are, Kenny. What kind of airplane are you?"

"I'm a great big airplane!"

"Where are you going this time? Disneyland?"

"Nope!"

Having to guess where he was flying was part of Kenny's new game. One of his birthday presents was a geography game for the computer, which he loved to play. It was an interactive puzzle of a map of the United States, and he had to click on the state-shaped puzzle pieces and drag them to the right spot. Every time he put a piece in the right spot, the piece would turn in to a little person, who would jump up and down and cheer for him. The little person would then show him fun things about the state, such as the biggest amusement park or the best beaches, before lying down and turning back into the puzzle piece. He played it all the time, laughing giddily when he put a state in the right spot, and she tried to remember the places he told her about. "Hmmmm, Mt. Rushmore?"

"Nope!"

"Hmmmmm, The Grand Canyon? That's right here in Arizona. Remember the donkeys carrying people down that path into the canyon?"

"Nope! I'm going far, far away!"

"Hmmmm, far away, huh? How about New York City? Remember the girls all in a long line dancing and kicking their legs way up high? Remember the Statue of Liberty?"

"Nope!"

"OK, how about….New Orleans?"

He stopped and looked at her for a minute, puzzled. "Which one is that?"

"New Orleans is in Louisiana, that's the one that looks like a boot. Remember Mardi Gras and the parade with all the costumes? Remember the dessert with the bananas and ice cream they lit on fire?" He started running again, laughing that she was still wrong.

"Hmmmm, how about… California? Remember the beaches and the big Hollywood sign where they make the movies? Remember, in San Francisco, the curvy street and the prison on the island?"

"Nope, nope, nope. But you're really warm."

"I'm warm? OK. You're sure you're not going to California? You're not going to Disneyland?"

"Nope, nope, nope, nope. No Mickey! No Mickey! Up! Up! Up! Up!"

"Hmmmm… Up, you say? So, north then. What's north of California? Hmmmm. Oh. _Oh, Kenny. _Are you going to Washington?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! I'm taking you to Washington so I won't miss you when you go see your daddy!"

Bella never really thought about having children someday, but if she ever did, she hoped they'd be like Kenny.

"Raspberries!"

Bella looked up just in time to see a four–no, pardonher_–_a _five_-year-old great big airplane heading straight at her. Laughing, she scooped him up under his arms and spun him around before pushing his shirt up and blowing raspberries on his stomach.

"I think it's about time for this little airplane to have his dinner."

"Awww! I'm not hungry. I wanna play on the swings!"

Taking advantage of the fact that he was already in her arms, Bella propped him on her hip and started to walk back home. "You already played on the swings. It's almost dinner time. We can eat on the patio and watch the sunset."

Kenny folded his little arms and pouted. "I'm not hungry."

"Not hungry, huh? Well, that's too bad. Your mom said there was chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream for after dinner. I know that's your favorite, but if you're not hungry, I'm sure you won't want any. I'll have to eat it _All... By... Myself_."

Visible in his dark brown eyes, a battle was going on in the little boy's head: Stay At The Park vs. Go Home And Eat Ice Cream. With all the seriousness of a general planning his next move, Kenny asked, "Are there sprinkles?"

"Rainbow."

"I might be a little hungry."

Two hours later, Kenny was rubbing his eyes and holding Franklin as she read to him. He was fresh out of the bath, all soft and warm and smelling like soap, and wearing the Arizona Diamondback jammies he had gotten from Phil and her mother for his birthday with his favorite Franklin bedroom slippers.

_ Really, even Kenny... What _is it _about baseball? _"Are you tired, sweetest? How 'bout we go on up to bed?"

He yawned and shook his head. "I wanna wait for Mommy and Daddy."

"Mommy and Daddy will be home real soon, honey. We'll just go up and you can lie down and wait up there." Bella didn't wait for him to answer, picking him up as he yawned again, and he was asleep almost as soon as she tucked him in.

Sonia had said they wouldn't be out too late. Carlos had finished his paper, and to celebrate, they'd gone out for a child-free dinner and a movie without a single animated character. Back downstairs, Bella turned the T.V. on with the voice down low so she'd hear Kenny if he woke up. The T.V. merely served as camouflage for when Sonia and Carlos came home; she wasn't watching it. She had gotten another letter from Edward this afternoon, and she'd brought it with her. Smiling as she thought about him, she pulled his latest letter out of her purse to read again and again.

_July 3, 1918_

_My Dear Bella,_

_I feel as if I have been lost in a fog these past four days, and that I have only just found my way out. I have had trouble accepting how truly far from me you are. I had thought it was only a few years, but I should have known that was not the case when you said how very different your world was from mine. How can I feel such a strong connection to you when we are separated by nearly a century? _

_I cannot even imagine the world you must live in... a world capable of finding ship wrecks on the ocean floor. Now, you may wish to sit down yourself, my dear Bella. My family and I had passage booked on the Titanic. My mother was not at all pleased. My mother is a very formidable woman, and I remember her employing every weapon in her arsenal to persuade my father to change our plans and sale on the Mauritania instead. She felt very strongly that claiming the ship to be practically unsinkable was to fly in the face of God. My mother is the oldest of five children. She was very close to her sister, Mary, who was less than two years younger than she. My Aunt Mary died when I was 2 years old. She, her husband, and their three children died in a fire at the Iroquois Theatre, which had been open for only five weeks and had been advertised as "absolutely fireproof". Of the approximately 2000 people there that day, 602 died. My cousins were only 9, 7, and 6 years old. My mother mourns them still. The sudden, horrific nature of their deaths haunts her still, even after all these years. My father and I fear she will never put their loss fully behind her. The building reopened as the Colonial Theatre not very long afterward, disrespectfully quickly in our opinion. To this day, she cannot bear to even walk passed it, and I have promised her to never set foot inside._

_How can you not like baseball? I cannot see how anyone could not like baseball. I consider it my responsibility to teach you an appreciation of the game. It is the American pastime, after all. (If it no longer is, please do not tell me, I don't want to know.) It is not "a lot of standing around waiting for something to happen". It is suspense. It is anticipation. There is nothing greater than your pitcher striking the batter out with the bases loaded to end the inning or your team coming back in the bottom of the 9th to win. My team did win, in fact. I play center field at my school because I am fast. Outfielders need to be fast to run down the ball. We did not have enough players for full teams, so we played with just the pitcher, three basemen, and two in the outfield with one of the players from the team at bat filling in as catcher. I played right field. A ball was hit right to the corner, just fair. They had a man on second, and he did not think I would be able to catch it, so he ran and tried to score. I did catch it. He was too far around third base, and I threw him out easily. When a fly ball is hit, you see, a base runner cannot leave their base until either the ball is caught or hits the ground. If he does, and the ball is caught, he has to get back to the base before the other team can throw the ball there. If he beats the ball, he is safe. If the ball beats him, he is out. That is called a double play, because the team in the field gets two outs, the batter and the runner. That will be today's lesson. Take notes. There will be a test._

_They have made the _Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ and _The Time Machine_ into your talking movies? The Oz books were never favorites of mine as a child. I have always preferred H. G. Wells or Jules Verne. I will read your Agatha Christie as soon as she is published. Do you like Sherlock Holmes? Have you ever read _Dracula _or_ Frankenstein_? I enjoyed _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer,_ but I did not care for _The Prince and The Pauper _and have never been able to get more than sixty or seventy pages in to _A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court_. Are they still known in your time? I did not like _Wuthering Heights_ at all. You will have to explain to me what it is about that you like. Which of Jane Austen's novels is your favorite? _Pride and Prejudice _is generally regarded as her most well-known, I believe, at least in this time, but I have always preferred _Persuasion_. I have always thought Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth to be a better love story than Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. Anne is very young and allows herself to be persuaded to give up the man she loves, but as she grows she gains strength and refuses to accept the hand of a man she does not love. She is overlooked entirely by her father and sisters, but her worth is recognized by others, and she is preferred over her father and sisters by nearly everyone. Captain Wentworth's wanting to write to her and ask for her hand again once he is better situated, but being too proud to do so, intending to forget her, believing himself to have done so, but remaining unconsciously, unintentionally faithful to her, never loving another, never even considering another to be her equal... I remember studying Shakespeare's Sonnets in school. "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: Oh, no. It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken." Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth always remind me of that. Their love is so true, so strong, it does not alter or bend, it may have been shaken, but it survived the tempest._

_Yes, Tucson. I apologize. Quickly, Bella, what is the capital of Illinois? No looking in your computer gadget thingamabob. _

_May I ask, what does it mean "to babysit"?_

_I know I have already told you this, but I want to repeat it. I do not care that your parents are divorced. I am sorry for it, of course, but I understand that you live in a very different world from mine. As much as I believe a marriage vow is unbreakable, I am a realist. If two people do not make each other happy, and their society allows for them to divorce, and the woman is able to provide for herself, it does seem pointless for them to remain together. Therefore, I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

Bella was still reading when she heard the Ruiz's car pull up, and she quickly put the letter back in her purse. A terrible feeling had begun to creep up on her while reading Edward's letter and thinking about Kenny asleep upstairs.

"We're back, Bella. How was he?"

"He's always good for me. He ate his dinner and was good for his bath. He wanted to wait up for you, but I took him up about an hour ago and he was asleep instantly."

They talked for a few more minutes before Carlos paid her, and she left. When she got home, her mom and Phil were watching a movie on TV. She sat with them for a few minutes, but she wasn't paying attention to the movie; all she could think about was Edward.

_...How can I feel such a strong connection to you when we are separated by nearly a century?... _

_ He feels a strong connection to me_. Bella couldn't think of anything that had ever made her happier than that one sentence, but the nagging thought that had entered her head while she waited for Sonia and Carlos to come home wouldn't leave her alone. _My life is in front of me. But Edward's is over. From his perspective, his life is in front of him, too... but in reality, in my reality anyway, it's over. He's already lived it. He's already formed his connections, to people from his own time, his own world. Am I interfering? _

"Did you talk to your dad about your tickets for Easter, Bella?"

_What if he doesn't meet the girl he is supposed to marry because of me?_

"Bella?"

_ What if instead of going somewhere someday, he stays home to write to me, and that was the day he would've met her? I could, so easily, change the course of his life. Things he was meant to experience... Places he was meant to go... People he was meant to meet... What if... What if I've already prevented him from doing something he was meant to do? Something he _did_ do before I wrote to him? Oh, God... What have I done?_

"Bella?"

_Why does the thought of him marrying someone scare me as much as the thought of accidentally preventing it?_

"Bella!"

Bella jumped and looked up when she heard her mom yell her name. Both her mom and Phil were staring at her and grinning.

"What?"

Her mom laughed and told her she had called her name three times. "What were you thinking about?"

"No one. Nothing! I mean, nothing. Nothing."

Her mom and Phil glanced at each other and smirked before looking back at her. "No one, _who_?"

_Oh, crap. Let it go, let it go, let it go, please, please, please, let it go. _

She shrugged and tried to look as casual and natural as possible. What could she say? _Oh, nothing important. I was just wondering if I was ruining someone's life. So, what's the movie about?_ "I was just daydreaming I guess. I think I'll go take a shower and go to bed."

But daydreaming was clearly the wrong excuse because her mother was now leaning forward, eyes wide, and looking at her like a tigress waiting to pounce. "Daydreaming? About who?"

Bella tried to laugh it off, but she really was a terrible actress, and she was starting to feel slightly nauseous.

"Come on, Bella! Who is he? What's his name? Is he cute? What's he like? Is he smart? Funny? I bet he's smart."

_Edward. His name is Edward, and I have no idea what he looks like, but I think he's wonderful_.

Looking down at the ground, Bella swallowed thickly. She really, really wanted to be alone. Phil must've seen something in her face because, like a night in shining armor, he came to her rescue. Giving her mother a hug he smiled consolingly at her. "Leave the poor girl alone, Renee. You're embarrassing her."

Renee pushed him aside, undaunted. "Don't be silly. Girls like to talk about boys."

The movie was just ending, and Phil turned it off, stood up, and pulled Renee to her feet, putting his arms around her. "With their girlfriends, love. Not with their mothers." He led Renee, who was still protesting, from the room and winked at Bella over his shoulder.

God, she could really get used to having him around.

Heartsick, Bella got ready for her shower quickly and adjusted the water. When it was at the right temperature, she got in and stood there letting the hot water beat down on her back. _Edward._ She could not believe how much just thinking his name affected her. _Edward._ But while sitting with her mother and Phil, and thinking about Sonia and Carlos, seeing the two couples together and knowing that the slightest outside interference might have prevented them from ever meeting, she had come to a decision, and no matter how much it hurt, she knew it was the right one. For Edward. _It's only been a week. Oh God, how can this hurt so much? Edward... I'm sorry. I can't_…_ I can't do this. It's not fair. It's not fair to you. You should have... you _deserve_ to have the life you were meant to have. The life you've already had. I can't risk interfering and taking that from you. I won't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. _

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..  
>.<p>

Edward and his parents arrived at the 4th of July Picnic at Lincoln Park just as the games were being organized on the lawn by the Conservatory, and Edward went off in search of his friends. As his parents were walking toward the refreshment tables to purchase their tickets for dinner, his mother spotted Dr. Cullen nearby and led her husband over to him. "Dr. Cullen, I am so happy to see you here. I began to fear you never left the hospital. Please, allow me to introduce my husband, Dr. Carlisle Cullen, Mr. Edward Masen."

The two men shook hands. "Very pleased to meet you, Dr. Cullen. My wife and son cannot say enough good about you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Masen. Mrs. Masen and Edward are a great help at the hospital. You must be very proud of them both."

"I am, sir, I am indeed. It is most kind of you to lend Edward your books and journals. He sits and reads them for hours at a time."

"I am very pleased to hear it. I believe Edward has great potential as a doctor."

Mrs. Masen invited the doctor to join them, and together they made their way to the refreshment tables for some lemonade. Tables and chairs were set up here and there, and they sat down together talking for a while before Edward ran up to them with Lillian Stevenson following behind him. "Hello, Dr. Cullen, it is good to see you here, sir. Not working tonight?"

"No, no. Fortunately for me, Thursday is one of my nights off."

Edward introduced Dr. Cullen to Lillian and continued to his parents, "The games will be beginning soon. They were forming mixed teams of six, so we make up a team perfectly. Mr. Stevenson and the Carringtons are over there."

"We will be over shortly, Edward."

He and Lillian headed back over to the Conservatory, and his parents and Dr. Cullen soon followed. A large group of people was forming around a clearing where the games would be played, and several groups of three were beginning to be lined up across the clearing, about forty or fifty yards away from each other. Their small group spotted Edward and his friends just as a large man wearing a red, white, and blue sash across his shoulder stepped up to a podium across the clearing from them.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! Good afternoon, and welcome to the annual Lincoln Park 4th of July Picnic! Before we begin, I would like to take a moment to remind everyone to support our brave young men fighting overseas and visit the booths set up near the refreshment tables, where the Lions Club will be selling Liberty Bonds until the concert begins.

"Now, I believe our teams are about ready. Our first game this afternoon will be a relay race. Racers will have to carry an orange under their chin, just so." He demonstrated by placing an orange under his multiple chins and waving his hands at his sides dramatically, like a magician after sawing a woman in half. "They will run across to their teammates and pass the orange off, without using their hands, to their teammate. Any team caught using their hands or dropping their orange... Will Be Disqualified." As the man spoke, he placed his hands on the podium and leaned toward the crowd, looking from person to person and adopting a very severe, stern pose which was betrayed by the jovial tone of his voice. "The first team to finish will win red, white, and blue ribbons. Now, racers, are we ready?"

Violet, Irene, and Lillian were lined up across the clearing from Joe, Will, and Edward, and they would race in that order, with Violet going first and passing the orange off to Joe.

The man at the podium raised a small starter's pistol. "Racers, on your marks! Get set! Go!" He fired the pistol, and the racers took off.

For not appearing to be at all physical, Violet ran surprisingly well, spurred on as she was by their team cheering her on, madly yelling and screaming to her. There were about fifteen teams of racers, and three were knocked out in the first exchange. Violet and Joe managed to exchange the orange without dropping it, and Joe took off running back toward Lillian and Irene, who were jumping up and down, laughing joyfully, and urging him on faster. There looked to be about four teams ahead of them, but one of them dropped their orange. Joe and Lillian exchanged the orange quickly, and Lillian ran back to Will. They had a little trouble with the exchange but managed it, and Will ran back to Irene. There were still three teams ahead of them when they made the exchange. Will passed the orange off to Irene, and she ran back to Edward. They made the exchange and Edward started to run. One of the other teams ahead of them was caught using their hands during the exchange and was "Disqualified!" leaving two other racers still ahead of Edward, but he really was very fast and easily passed the other two off in a sprint to the finish line. The man on the podium announced them the winners and their team went up to the podium to get their ribbons as their parents and Dr. Cullen cheered proudly.

After the relay race, they also had a sack race, blind man's bluff, and horseshoes.

After the blind man's bluff, the girls rejoined their parents, and Edward persuaded Dr. Cullen to join him and his friends to make four for a game of horseshoes. Edward and Dr. Cullen teamed up against Joe and Will, beating them soundly, 40-28.

After horseshoes, they rejoined the others and found a nice spot near were a group of young children were playing drop the handkerchief and not too far from where a concert would be given just before dusk, followed by fireworks once it was good and dark. All the families had brought blankets, and they spread them out and sat down. Elizabeth was glad that Dr. Cullen had accepted her invitation to be part of their little group and tried to make sure he felt welcome. "You throw very well, Dr. Cullen."

Dr. Cullen moved his arm around in circles massaging his shoulder and grimaced a little, but smiled as he said, "Thank you, I haven't played in years. I am afraid I will be paying for it tomorrow. I sometimes forget I am not as young as I once was."

The group fell into silence for a few moments before Dr. Cullen spoke again, "I believe the concert this evening is going to be quite good. I am very much looking forward to it."

Edward was surprised at how quiet his normally amicable and talkative friends and their parents were this evening and was quickly growing both frustrated and embarrassed at their behavior. Other than his mother and himself, and even only occasionally his father, no one was making any effort to speak to Dr. Cullen, or, in fact, to speak at all. He quickly responded, trying to keep the stilted conversation going. "Are you fond of music, Dr. Cullen?"

"Oh, yes, indeed. I enjoy music a great deal. I attend the Chicago Symphony Orchestra as often as my schedule permits."

"Do you play?"

"No, I am afraid I never learned, but I recently purchased a new phonograph and have quite an extensive collection of records."

Elizabeth was dismayed at her husband's unusually subdued demeanor and was very proud of her son's efforts in welcoming the young doctor to their small group and smiled warmly at him before turning to the doctor. "You must come and dine with us one evening, Dr. Cullen. Edward can play for you. He is quite talented and plays the piano beautifully, if I do say so myself."

Edward laughed softly and shook his head at his mother's praise. "My mother exaggerates, Dr. Cullen. She is a very biased judge."

Their three-way conversation continued through the picnic dinner of fried chicken, baked beans, and potato salad, and Edward was greatly relieved when the concert began and there was no longer a need to talk.

_Honestly, what is wrong with everyone tonight? Can they not see how rude they are being? Violet I am not surprised at, having only just met Dr. Cullen her shyness is natural and to be expected, but everyone else? Even Father?_

The concert was indeed as good as had been expected, and the fireworks following it drew a multitude of appreciative _oh's_ and _ah's_ from everyone. At the end of the evening, Edward was once again embarrassed by his friends and their parents at how quickly said their good nights and hurried off, and he wondered what on Earth had gotten into everyone as he and his parents walked to their car after parting from Dr. Cullen.

The morning after the picnic, Edward had dreaded seeing the doctor at the hospital and had hoped he had not taken on another extra shift, but if Dr. Cullen had noticed his father's and friends' inexplicable behavior, which Edward knew he must have, he certainly did not show it. In fact, to Edward's great surprise, he'd spoken of the picnic as if it was one of the best days he had spent in a very long time, and the very first thing he'd said upon seeing Edward in the morning was how very much he had enjoyed himself. Later that day, as Edward wrote up his notes from his morning with the men, they'd moved on from discussing the concert to discussing the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and the return of Frederick Stock as conductor and whether the replacing of music by German composers such as Wagner with that of others served a purpose in not provoking more anger toward German Americans or only served to add fuel to a fire that was already burning wildly out of control.

On the mornings Dr. Cullen was still at the hospital when Edward arrived during the coming week, they'd continued their discussion moving onto other topics. Today was Friday morning, and Dr. Cullen was still at the hospital after changing nights off with one of the other doctors. They were discussing women's suffrage, which both men supported.

"I am very pleased to hear you so well versed on the topic, Edward. It is good to see so young a person interested in the world around him."

In the short time he had known him, Edward had come to look upon the young doctor as a mentor, almost as a friend, and he was very pleased at his approval. "You have meet my mother, Dr. Cullen. Would you dare tell her there is something that she, as a woman, cannot do?"

The doctor agreed, laughing, "I think wrestling an angry bobcat would be easier."

"What do you think, Dr. Cullen? Do you think the Senate will follow the House and pass the bill?"

Dr. Cullen looked thoughtful for a few moments before answering, "I think it is inevitable. A few years ago, it was voted on in the House and lost; now, in January it passed, but by only one vote. I think it is inevitable; however, I do not think it will pass until after the war is won."

At the mention of the war being won, Edward's thoughts returned once more to Bella. She was never fully out of his mind for very long. If anyone had told him before her first letter that he could ever come to care so deeply for someone so quickly through a few letters only, without even the chance of ever meeting, he would have laughed at them. But he had. Of course, if before her first letter any one had told him he would be exchanging letters with a girl who would not even be born for another seventy-five years, he would have had them committed. But he was.

Over a week had now passed since he had heard from her, and he was growing despondent. Several times every day he looked and hoped for a letter, and every day he grew more and more disappointed. He did not know what to think.

_Is she ill? Has something happened?_

He worried continually at two women living alone in such a large city; 1,600,000 people, she had said.

_Does she no longer want to write to me? Did I say something to offend her?_

Once again, Edward thought over what he had written but couldn't think of anything offensive or objectionable. But then... what could it be?

_If_ _she no longer wishes to be my friend…_

A sharp pain emanated from Edward's chest and spread through his body as his heart thumped forcefully at that thought. He'd asked himself several times this week what interest a girl who lived in a world capable of traveling to the ocean floor, a world with wonders he could scarcely even imagine but that were commonplace to her, could possibly have in developing a friendship with him, but every time her words echoed through his mind.

"_Your Friend, Bella"_

If Bella now no longer wished to be his friend–he could barely stand the thought–Edward knew he would have to accept her decision. He would never try to force his company on a girl who did not want it. But he couldn't help but feel, instinctively, that that was not the case. There was some other reason. Something was wrong.

"Edward? Did you hear what I said?"

Looking up, deeply embarrassed that he had not been paying attention to Dr. Cullen, Edward quickly apologized. "Please forgive me, Dr. Cullen. I.. was… thinking about… a friend."

Dr. Cullen studied him for a moment before responding, "By the look on your face, I would say worrying about a friend was closer to the truth. I do hope everything is alright. Is it one of your friends from the picnic?"

Edward ran his hands through his hair and sighed frustratedly. "No, it is not. I have… a friend… she lives out West with her mother, in Arizona. Her parents… are… divorced, and she lives with her mother. I have not heard from her in some time, and, I, I worry about her. I do not like the idea of two women living alone."

Dr. Cullen leaned back in his chair with a very serious look on his face. "I see. I can understand your concern. This young lady… Correct me if I am wrong, but I suspect your parents are unaware of your… friendship?"

Edward dropped his face into his hands. "No, they do not know."

"May I ask how you met the young lady?"

Edward laughed sadly into his hands.

_Actually, we haven't meet. We can never meet. You see, she hasn't been born yet, and I will be dead long before she is._

Dr. Cullen may have taken his odd questions in stride but that… that… Edward could not even imagine the other man's reaction to that. "We haven't met. She's, she's someone I came to write to... through a mutual acquaintance."

Dr. Cullen did not respond, and Edward hastened to better explain. "There is nothing… wrong, nothing… improper. We just… we just write to each other." He continued sadly, "I know there is no chance for there ever to be anything more than friendship between us. We come from… very different worlds. I just... I just wish I could know that she is alright."

Dr. Cullen said in a very soft, soothing, almost musical voice. "You mistake me, Edward. I have no doubt whatever that you would only ever behave in a proper manner. Your concern for your friend is very admirable. My only concern was for your well-being. I do not like to see you hurting." He paused for a moment before smiling slightly and going on. "As for there being no chance, you are so very young, Edward. As you grow, you will come to learn how very similar seemingly very different worlds can be. I have learned that people are mostly the same, whatever the sphere into which they were born."

_It isn't the "whatever sphere", if it were merely that, I would get on the first train to Arizona and find her. It is the "whatever century", and I have no time machine. Or, at least, not one I could fit either myself or her into._

"How long has it been since you last heard from the young lady?"

Edward sighed. "Over a week."

Dr. Cullen was so surprised he had to stifle a small laugh as he responded. He realized time seemed to pass very differently for others than it did for him, especially someone Edward's age, but he had assumed it to be a much longer time to have his young friend so dejected. "A week? Edward, a week is nothing."

Not so very long ago, Edward would have agreed, but now... now he knew just how long a week could be and how much could happen to a person in that length of time.

Dr. Cullen glanced out the window and seemed startled for a moment. "I'm terribly sorry Edward, but I must leave. I've just remembered an appointment, and I must hurry or I will be late." He took in the lost expression on Edward's face and wished there was some way to raise his spirits. "Do not fear, Edward. I am sure you will hear from your friend soon. Perhaps the mail has simply been delayed for some reason."

Edward agreed, knowing that was not the case.

As he approached the nurse's station, Edward saw his mother already there waiting for him. "Oh, Edward, good. I was just going to come find you. We must leave, dear. Are you finished? Your father's secretary has just telephoned. Your father has taken ill suddenly, and Frank Carrington is driving him home."

His surprise overriding everything else, Edward handed Nurse Denison his notes from the morning and, with his mother, turned down the hall toward the entrance to the hospital. "Mr. Carrington is driving him home? That hardly seems necessary. I cannot believe Father would agree to it."

The sun breaking through the clouds as they stepped outside was a very welcome sight. They had been having the worst weather anyone could remember this summer; although oppressively hot, it seemed every day was gray and dismal.

"I agree, it does seem unusual. I can only imagine the fuss your father must be making."

They walked briskly in the direction of the nearest "L" station, and Edward laughed at the understatement. "I don't think 'fuss' is quite the right word, Mother. More like a full scale battle royal."

The moment they arrived home, they were greeted at the door by a very worried looking Maggie and joined as they entered hall by an equally worried Frank Carrington. Elizabeth began to thank him but stopped when she fully registered the expression on their faces. She looked nervously back and forth between the two and reached behind her for her son's hand. "What is it? What has happened? What is wrong?"

Edward, too, had noticed their anxious looks and stepped forward taking his mother's hand. "Mr. Carrington, what is the matter?"

Frank Carrington wiped his brow with his handkerchief and looked between mother and son. "I am no doctor, but I must warn you both before you see him, I believe he is very ill. I spoke to Edward in his office, just briefly, around mid-morning, about a case that would be discussed at a meeting later in the day, and we agreed to meet to discuss the case over lunch before the meeting. He was perfectly well at that time. Barely two hours had passed when I returned to his office at noon and found him coughing violently and burning with fever. He complained of a headache and sore throat, pain in his hands and feet, and a metallic taste in his mouth. I called his secretary into the office and told her to cancel the meeting and his appointments for the rest of the afternoon, that Mr. Masen was very ill, and I was taking him home. He is very dizzy, and I assisted him upstairs."

Mr. Carrington paused for a moment to catch his breath and wiped his brow again. His hand was trembling. "Once upstairs, I noticed his cheeks... appeared slightly bruised. Your maid took his temperature once he was settled into bed. It was 103.2 degrees. Elizabeth, I have never seen a man become so ill so quickly. I strongly recommend you send for a doctor at once."

Elizabeth and Edward were speechless for a moment before Elizabeth's nurse's instincts kicked in, and she took charge. Stepping forward, she took Frank Carrington's hand warmly with both of hers. "Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, Frank. I cannot thank you enough for your help. Edward, please see Mr. Carrington to the door. Maggie, Vick's VapoRub, aspirin, and water please."

Elizabeth started up the staircase with Maggie following behind. "Mr. Masen has already taken aspirin, ma'am."

"Good, very good. Please bring bowls of cold water and vinegar and towels. We must lower his fever."

"Yes, ma'am."

Elizabeth's steps faltered, and her growing anxiety heightened further as she first heard the horrible sounds of husband's ferocious coughing as she approached their bedroom. In all her experience, she could not remember ever hearing a sound like it. This was no normal illness.

Edward rushed up the stairs the moment Mr. Carrington left, and he approached his mother warily. "Mother?"

Elizabeth turned and faced her son, placing her hand on his shoulder to brace herself. "Edward, please telephone Dr. Clark."

"Nellie is doing that right now."

His mother didn't answer, she merely nodded her head before straightening her back and turning toward the door.

Nothing could have prepared them for the sight that awaited them. Edward, Sr. was trembling so severely he was nearly convulsing, the horrible coughing would not let up, and his ears were tinged blue. After a moment in which both were paralyzed with horror, they rushed to his side as Maggie and Nellie arrived with the VapoRub and bowls of cold water with vinegar and towels.

Nellie was wringing her hands and looked terrified. "I am sorry, Mrs. Masen. Dr. Clark is not in the office at the moment, but he is expected back shortly. I told his receptionist it was urgent and asked that he telephone immediately upon his return."

Elizabeth had begun rubbing the VapoRub onto her husband's chest and let out a shaky breath, stopping her ministrations just long enough to give instructions to Nellie. In spite of all her nursing experience, her hands were shaking as badly as Frank Carrington's had. She forced herself to remain calm. "Thank you, Nellie. We need to get him to take liquids. Please make a strong broth and add plenty of crushed garlic. Also, boil a whole lemon with a cinnamon stick for fifteen minutes in a small pan with just enough water to cover the lemon. After it has boiled, juice the lemon, strain it, and add it to the hot water. Add one half cup of honey and a large shot of brandy. Edward, soak the towels in the water and help me to undress him. We must bring his fever down."

For the next thirty minutes, Elizabeth and Edward worked and waited for the doctor to telephone until, finally, there was a soft knock on the door. "Mrs. Masen, ma'am, Dr. Clark is on his way."

Elizabeth's body sagged with relief. "Oh, thank Heaven."

"I have Mr. Masen's hot lemon and honey, ma'am, and the broth is simmering."

The pungent scent of the garlic could be smelled in the bedroom already.

"Very good, thank you, Nellie. Please bring it here. Edward, sit him up."

Nellie carried in a tray with a tea pot and cup and set it on a small bedside table, casting a fearful look at the bed before hurrying back out of the room.

Edward struggled to settle his father into a sitting position as his mother poured a cup of hot lemon and honey. Her hair was coming loose from its bun, and her hands were still shaking slightly. "Edward, we need to get him to take as much of this as possible. Liquids are vitally important."

"Yes, Mother."

Edward was sitting on the bed, with his father half propped up against pillows and half leaning against him. The coughing had settled for the moment, but Edward was frightened at how very high his father's fever was. It was so high, it was uncomfortable to touch him, even though his clothing. "Edward, dearest, please, you need to drink this. Please. Drink this."

"Please, Father."

Edward, Sr. lay propped up against the pillows and his son's body and looked unseeingly around the room, seemingly unable to understand where he was. Elizabeth held the cup up to his lips and begged him to drink, "Edward, please, listen to me, dearest, you need to drink, please." "Mother, try the spoon. Hand me the cup, and try to give it to him by the spoon."

His mother handed him the cup and was able to spoon a small amount into his father's mouth. Working this way, they managed to get the whole cup into him, one spoonful at a time, just as they heard Maggie in the hall with the doctor, and they exchanged looks of pure relief as the doctor entered the room.

Elizabeth stood and went to him. "Dr. Clark, thank you for coming."

Dr. Clark nodded his head at them as he approached his patient. "Mrs. Masen, Edward." After carefully sliding out from behind his father, Edward gently lay him back down and stood next to his mother beside the bed giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Dr. Clark gave his patient a quick examination before turning to Elizabeth and Edward and asking what had happened. Elizabeth's nerves were catching up to her; they were beginning to fail her now that she was no longer actively nursing her husband, and she leaned heavily against her son, unable to answer. Edward put his arm around her and answered the doctor, "He was found ill in his office at noon by a friend, Frank Carrington, who brought him home. Mr. Carrington told us he had spoken to my father at about at mid-morning, and he was perfectly well at that time." Edward stopped and looked at his father who had drifted into a very fitful sleep. His ears were still that horrible blue color, and his cheeks looked bruised. Taking a deep breath, Edward continued. "Mr. Carrington said he was coughing violently and complained of a headache and sore throat and a metallic taste in his mouth. He was very dizzy and needed help to his room upon their arrival home. His temperature was taken once they arrived, 103.2. We've been trying to lower it, rubbing his arms and legs with towels soaked in cold water and vinegar."

Edward's breath caught in his throat and it was a moment before he could speak again. "But, he feels… so hot, and his ears… his ears have been… blue… and his cheeks, bruised… since we've been here."

Elizabeth found her voice as Edward began to lose his. "We've managed to get some liquids into him, Doctor. He has had aspirin, and I've rubbed his chest with VapoRub. His coughing… when Edward and I arrived, Dr. Clark, his coughing was so fierce…. It was horrible. It was like nothing I have ever heard before. He hasn't spoken, and he… he doesn't… he doesn't seem to… know us."

Dr. Clark bent back over his patient, taking his temperature, listening to his heart and chest, and checking his pulse.

Edward stepped back further away from the bed pulling his mother with him, and it was silent in the room as the doctor worked.

After a few minutes Dr. Clark stepped back checking the thermometer. "You say his fever was 103.2 shortly after twelve noon?"

"Yes."

Dr. Clark turned very grave eyes to Elizabeth and Edward. "Mrs. Masen, Edward, I do not like to sugar coat my patient's condition to their families. It does not help. I believe Mr. Masen contracted a very severe case of influenza, which I fear rapidly developed into pneumonia. I do not like how very quickly his symptoms set in, and they are worsening. Mr. Masen's temperature is now 103.8, and his chest is very congested. I believe he should be taken to the hospital where he can be more closely monitored."

Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her husband and filled with tears.

Dr. Clark came to her and took her hand. "Now, now, Mrs. Masen. Please do not overly distress yourself, my dear. Your husband is not young, but he is strong. I have every confidence in his full recovery in a few days' time."

Edward thanked the doctor and took him downstairs to telephone the hospital, leaving his mother alone with his father. After the doctor finished his telephone call, he returned upstairs, and Edward telephoned his father's brothers in Philadelphia and New York and spoke briefly with Maggie and Nellie in the kitchen. As he climbed the stairs, he could hear his father coughing again and hurried to his room. The doctor was preparing a hypodermic syringe as Edward entered the room, and he went straight to his mother, who was next to the bed holding his father's hand as he coughed. She turned and looked at him as he came up to her. "Dr. Clark is giving your father an injection of morphine to help him rest."

He stood next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "I have spoken to Aunt Josephine and Aunt Louise."

Elizabeth nodded her head as she looked back to her husband, raised her hand, and squeezed Edward's hand on her shoulder.

By the time the ambulance arrived, Edward Sr. was sleeping soundly from the morphine, and Edward drove his mother to the hospital behind the ambulance.

They were seated by his father's bedside at the hospital hours later when Dr. Baxley arrived. "Edward? I was told you were here. How is your father?"

Edward had been sitting slumped forward in his chair with his head in his hands when Dr. Baxley arrived, and he ran his hand across his face as he stood. Elizabeth had dozed off a short while ago, and the two men stepped away to not wake her. "Not at all well, Dr. Baxley. He was given a Morphine injection and slept well for a while, but he awoke dazed and confused from the fever. He does not recognize us or that he is at the hospital. He has periods of very fitful sleep, and when he wakes he coughs terribly and shakes with chills."

Edward looked at his father, who was sleeping restlessly at the moment. The last time he woke up had been especially bad. When he wasn't coughing, his breathing was strained, shallow and rapid, as if he was out of breath, and he had stared at the clock on the wall as if terrified by it.

Letting out a breath and still looking at his father, Edward continued hopelessly, "Every time he wakes is worse than the last."

Dr. Baxley looked at him very sympathetically and offered words of encouragement that Edward barely heard. Both knew there were no words that could help. Both recognized that his father's condition was very serious and deteriorating rapidly. A slight bluish tinge was now visible around his father's lips as well as his ears.

Dr. Baxley stayed a few minutes longer and offered his services if there was anything at all he could do for him or his mother before returning to his duties on the fourth floor.

Edward stood where he was for a few moments looking at his parents, his father tossing and turning as if in pain even in his sleep, and his mother dozing in her uncomfortable metal chair with her head resting on her folded arm on the table next to his father's bed. Never before in his life had Edward felt more helpless or alone. He returned to his chair on the other side of his father's bed and sat again with his head in his hands and prayed.

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Well, things had been going entirely too smoothly, don't you think? Did anyone need a tissue? That was kind of goal, because I'm a complete crybaby. Poor Edward, just when he needs Bella the most...

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I tried to be as accurate as possible with Edward, Sr.'s symptoms of Spanish Flu. The Spanish Flu hit in three waves, the first being the most mild of the three and the second the worst by far. At this point, they don't even know there is an epidemic. However, some people had at least some idea there was a particularly bad flu this year. The Philadelphia Bureau of Public Health issued a bulletin in July 1918, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears and went mostly unnoticed. Of course, to be fair, by this time pretty much every hospital was severely short staffed with doctors and nurses lost to the war effort. In Philadelphia, according to the PBS website, "Over one-quarter of the city's doctors, and a larger portion of its nurses, were lending their medical talents to the nation's war efforts. At Philadelphia Hospital, 75% of medical and support staff were overseas." So, those left behind had their hands too full already to take much notice. This is why I chose to make Elizabeth a former hospital nurse and have her volunteer her time at the hospital, and make Edward - wanting to be a doctor - join her once the school year ended. I wanted to give Elizabeth the chance to spend enough time with Carlisle to catch on, and give Carlisle enough time to bond with Edward.

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I'm a bit of a Titanic junkie, so I couldn't help but have Edward's family supposed to have sailed on her. And of course, today just happens to be the 100th anniversary of the sinking.

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The fire at the Iroquois Theater that Edward's aunt, uncle, and cousins died in was real. The similarities between it and the Titanic disaster were so similar, I had to include it. The theater had only been open about five weeks at the time of the fire, and to this day, it remains the deadliest single-building fire in U.S. history. From beginning to end, it was only about 15 - 20 minutes, but in that time 602 people died. The theater was advertised as "Absolutely Fireproof" in spite of a tour by an editor of _Fireproof Magazine_ during construction turning up multiple problems, including an inadequate number of exits. Additionally, a Chicago Fire Department captain touring the theater only days before opening noted no fire extinguishers, sprinklers, alarms, telephones, or water connections, and the only firefighting equipment on site being six cans of a dry chemical called "Killfyre" which was normally used to fight residential chimney fires. They did have a "fire curtain," but when they tried to lower it, it got caught up on lighting. It was tested after the fire and found to be made of mostly wood pulp and asbestos and would have been absolutely useless. Fire exits were hidden behind draperies. Other doors opened inward and were jammed as people rushed them. In the aftermath of the fire, building and fire codes were changed, and all exits had to be clearly marked and doors fixed so that they could be opened outward, but that practice did not become national until the Collinwood School Fire of 1908. The Iroquois fire prompted widespread implementation of the "panic bar" (you've seen them thousands of times, bars that run the width of the door that you push to open instead of a door nob). Panic bars had been developed in the UK in 1883 following a disaster there, and were mass manufactured in the US following the fire. They are now required by building codes for high-occupancy spaces. - Per Wikipedia.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you as always to my PTB beta, Thir13enth!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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"Hello, may I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Phil Dwyer. My fiancée and I have a meeting with Reverend Harrison." "Have seat please, Mr. Dwyer. The Reverend will be right with you."

Phil walked back over to Renee and Bella, who were looking out the window at a beautiful gazebo surrounded by a small flower garden behind the church. "He'll be right out."

"Oh, Phil, look. Isn't it beautiful. Just picture it at sunset."

Standing behind Renee, Phil wrapped his arms around her and agreed that it was beautiful. The gazebo was square in shape, painted white, ornate but not overly so, and fully open on one side which faced a small grassy area divided by path of flat stones lined on both sides with colorful flowers. The stone walkway fanned out as it approached the gazebo, and two steps led up to the raised floor so that the bridal party was elevated slightly over their guests.

They only waited a few moments before they were joined by the Reverend. "Phil, Renee, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Reverend, this is my daughter, Bella. She is my maid of honor."

"A pleasure, Bella."

Gesturing with his hand, Reverend Harrison guided them to a door opposite the windows. "There is a small conference room right over here. If you would follow me, we can get started." Renee and Phil had chosen a small non-denominational church near Camelback Mountain for their wedding ceremony. Although not particularly religious, Renee was just old fashioned enough that she wanted to be married in a church, and they both knew that Phil's parents would be very disappointed if he was not married in a church.

"Reverend Harrison, I noticed the gazebo area behind the church, would it be possible to have the ceremony there, instead of inside?"

"Oh, yes. We've had many weddings in the gazebo; it's very popular. We can only seat about twenty-five around it though, and there isn't room in the gazebo itself for a large bridal party, only myself, the bridge and groom, maid of honor, and best man. Often, couples will have pictures taken in the gazebo after the ceremony if their wedding party is too large."

Renee's face lit up, and she looked at Phil and squeezed his hand. "That would be perfect." The Reverend had a calendar planner in front of him and opened it to November. "You said on the phone you were interested in Saturday, November 28th. Correct? What time would you like the ceremony?"

"Yes, November 28th. I believe Renee is interested in having the ceremony at sunset," Phil answered, looking at Renee for confirmation.

She agreed. "Sunset would be wonderful. It must be absolutely beautiful."

After writing their names in the calendar, the Reverend turned to Renee. "Sunset ceremonies are very popular. The sun sets behind Camelback, and it is absolutely stunning. I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Would 5:00 work for you? The service will take about twenty minutes."

"Yes, that would be fine."

"Very good, then. Now, music. We do have an organist, or if you prefer, you can hire your own."

Bella sat quietly, barely listening to her mother and Phil planning their wedding ceremony. It had only been a week since her decision to stop writing to Edward, but it felt like forever. She had never felt so lonely, so empty, and she looked absently around the room wondering for at least the hundredth time if she had made the right decision.

_ Stop it. You don't have the right to interfere with a life that's already been lived. You don't belong to his world, and he doesn't belong to yours. He has his friends, and he has his plans. Just because _you_ don't have a life, doesn't mean you can risk messing up his. You've given him peace of mind, knowing that the war will end soon, and that is all you can give him. If you're truly his friend, if you truly care about him, you have to let him go, let him live the life he was meant to, that he already has. He falls in love, marries, and has at least one child. Michael is proof of that. You can't risk him losing his wife and child. What kind of friend would you be if you did? _

That was the one thought that always got to her the worst, the one that could bring her to her knees. She had met his grandson. Edward would eventually fall in love, marry, and have a child. Or children. With Violet, perhaps?

Whoever he married one day, she knew he would be happy. From his letters, she knew he was a good person. Compassionate. Caring. She could tell he truly cared about the men he spent time with at the hospital. He didn't volunteer his time out of a sense of obligation or to make himself look good or for any other selfish reason. He did it simply because he was good. That, she was sure of. Although she had known him for such a little while, Bella thought she already knew Edward better than she knew anyone else.

Smiling a little to herself, Bella thought of Jane Austen's character Mary Ann Dashwood. She had said that it was not time or opportunity that determined intimacy, that seven years wouldn't be enough for some people to get to really know each other, but that seven days were more than enough for others.

_ Except, Mary Ann Dashwood could not have been more wrong. The man she thought she knew was nothing like she thought he was._

She wondered what Edward would say if he knew that in the movie version, Mary Ann Dashwood quoted the same sonnet he used to describe Anne Elliot and Captain Dashwood with Mr. Willoughby.

_ He'd probably go nuts._

She wondered what he thought of Mary Ann Dashwood, and she wished she could ask him. Bella didn't think she would've been one of his favorite characters. Edward had described himself as a realist, but she thought there was a romantic inside him too. Mary Ann Dashwood was _too_ overly romantic though, naively so… ridiculously so really, like a 12-year-old with her first crush would be. No, she was sure Mary Ann Dashwood would not be one of his favorite literary characters.

Bella sighed sadly as she thought about Edward, how very quickly he had become so important to her, how quickly she had come to feel connected to him. _Seven years or seven days… _

"Or seven letters."

"Bella?"

Bella looked at her mother and saw that she, Phil, and Reverend Harrison were all looking at her, and she panicked as she realized she'd spoken out loud.

"Did you say something, baby?"

"What? Oh, no. No, I... I was just… thinking… about something. I'm sorry."

Reverend Harrison continued on, but Renee and Phil looked at her for a few seconds longer before turning back to the Reverend.

Bella knew she hadn't been herself this week, and both her mom and Phil had been trying to get her talk about what was bothering her. If she was being perfectly honest, she hadn't been herself since she got Edward's first letter. She'd always been quiet. She'd never minded being alone. She was like her dad in that way. Her mom was the social one. Bella had always been perfectly content to sit at home and read. Now though, she couldn't even think about any of her favorite books without thinking about Edward. She couldn't even bring herself to pick them up; now, they only reminded her of the friend she had lost.

There were so many things she wanted to tell him or ask him, but she knew she couldn't. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Was he wondering why she hadn't written yet? Was he angry, or worried, or hurt? Would he ever forgive her? Would he forget her? From _Sense and Sensibility_ and Mary Ann Dashwood, Bella's mind drifted to _Pride and Prejudice_, and Elizabeth Bennett's voice rang in her head, _"I cannot bear to think that he is alive in the world and thinking ill of me." _

It was no use even trying to concentrate on anything that didn't involve him. She had rented _The Time Machine_ and had gotten the book. It was the only book she could bring herself to read.

"Bella and Phil's brother, Andrew, are doing the readings."

Hearing her name, Bella groaned to herself. She was doing the first reading. She was so not looking forward to this. She was counting on Phil's brother, Andrew, to get her down the aisle without falling, but she didn't know what her mother was thinking, having her stand up in front of everyone, in heels and a gown no less, and give a reading.

And now, with the gazebo, she'd have stairs to deal with. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Very good, and have you looked at any readings?"

Suddenly, Bella got an idea. If she could keep a piece of Edward with her, maybe it wouldn't be as bad. "Actually, Reverend, I don't know if it's allowed, but I was thinking I'd like to read from Shakespeare, if that's OK?"

Her mother smiled at her. No, she wasn't just smiling; she was absolutely beaming at her. "Oh, baby. You thought about that? Oh, that would be beautiful."

Renee turned her glowingly happy smile on the Reverend. "Is that OK, Reverend?"

"Oh, yes, depending on the verse, of course, but we have had couples use a poem or verse with special meaning to them before. What did you have in mind, Bella?"

"A sonnet, I don't know which one it is, or if I have the words right, but it's something like 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. Oh, no. It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.' I, I, I heard it... somewhere... and... I don't know, I just, I really liked it. I'm not sure if I got it right."

Bella knew very well she had the right words. She must've read each of Edward's letters fifty times at least. She could probably recite them word for word, beginning to end.

_ A realist? Please. Realists don't quote Shakespeare to girls living ninety one years in the future, Edward. You are such a hopeless romantic._

"Ah, yes. Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Is that what you would like then, Renee? Phil?"

Her mother was still smiling that same radiant smile as she answered the Reverend with tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, yes. Bella, that's beautiful. Thank you, baby. It's perfect."

"Phil?"

Great, now Phil was grinning at her like that, too. "I'm good with whatever make the ladies happy."

Making notes of what had been decided, the Reverend continued on. "Next, I will talk about marriage and the solemnity of the vows you are making, then we will proceed onto the second reading."

The Reverend had several print outs of suggested readings, and her mother and Phil chose 1 Corinthians 13:1-13.

They talked about their vows, but Renee and Phil were undecided if they wanted to use standard vows or write their own.

"Next, comes the exchanging of the rings, followed by a short acknowledgment of the vows you have made to each other, and the only thing left is to pronounce you husband and wife, you kiss, I introduce you as Mr. and Mrs. Phil Dwyer, and everyone claps."

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..ooOoo..

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Later that evening, Bella was lying on her bed, once again reading _The Time Machine,_ when Phil came and knocked on her door. She knew her mom and Phil were worried that something was bothering her, so she had left her bedroom door open hoping it wouldn't look like she was shutting herself off.

_ It's not like I'm doing anything special anyway._

"Pizza's here. Watcha reading?"

As she got up, Bella handed him the book, and he looked at it for a minute before laying it down on her desk. "Didn't you just read that a few days ago?"

She forced herself to smile and asked him how many times he had seen the Three Stooges episode he watched last night.

"That's different though, that's the Stooges. They're classics."

Bella walked out of her room shaking her head, but Phil called her back. "Bella, wait a sec." Slowly turning to face him, she braced herself for another round of "What's wrong with Bella?" He must've known what she was thinking, because he put his hands up in surrender. "I know, I know, you're fine, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to tell you how happy you made your mom today. She's so happy you put so much thought into what you wanted to read for the wedding that she hasn't stopped talking about it since we got home."

Bella looked down at the ground, embarrassed, and shrugged her shoulders. She hadn't thought about it at all; the idea just popped into her head. And she'd been thinking about Edward when she suggested it, not her mother.

Thinking she was embarrassed because she was getting emotional about the wedding, Phil laughed, trying to lighten the mood, and put his hand on her shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze as they walked out to the patio. "Right, enough of the emotional stuff, let's go eat."

Renee was already on the patio and called into them, asking them if they could grab the wedding planner Reverend Harrison had given them.

"I'll grab it, mom. Where is it?"

"I think I left it on the kitchen table."

After a few minutes of looking, Bella found it on the end table in the living room.

_ It really is a good thing all her limbs are securely attached... A new wedding planner really wasn't necessary, she's already got one. Although, this one really is prettier. The other one is just plain white with some calligraphy on it._

The new wedding planner from Reverend Harrison had a definite religious theme to it, hardly surprising, since it was from the church. It had a picture on one corner of a woman's hand resting on top of a man's showing off their new wedding rings, and there was a faint image of a third hand, large, strong, and masculine, beneath picture took up about half of the cover then faded away.

Bella had never been a religious person. It wasn't that she didn't believe, it was more that she just never really thought about it. She supposed if someone were to ask her point blank, she would say that, yes, she believed there was some type of God or supreme being who had created the universe. The alternative, that everything just sort of… BANG, appeared out of nothing… that the countless cells and nerves of the human body, that the entire interdependent ecosystem that was the planet Earth, just happened strictly by chance…. It just didn't feel plausible.

As she looked at the picture on the cover, Bella felt herself genuinely smiling for the first time in a week. There was just something very comforting about it. Just the idea that there really was some kind of creator or protector out there, and that he was on your side, made her feel more at peace than she had since she realized she had to stop writing to Edward. The idea that he would fall in love with someone and marry her someday didn't hurt quite so much as it did before.

_ Just be happy, Edward. That's all I want. For you to be happy._

The other half of the cover had something written on it, and if the picture had reassured her, what was written above it left her reeling.

"_God gifts us with many miracles in our lives. He leaves it to us to chose to accept them or turn away. You have chosen this day to accept the miracle God has gifted you with, the miracle of each other. Cherish, honor, and guard His miracle always. Enter into this marriage knowing that accepting His miracle will not be easy. You will walk a path together, not knowing what lies around the corner, but be not afraid. You have found each other along your path in life by His will, and He will walk it with you, if you ask Him. Respect each other, cherish and love each other, do not hide your fears from each other, be honest and open with each other, and commit to live your lives together for all the days to come." _

Bella must've stood there holding the planner longer than she realized, because her mother came looking for her. "Oh good, you found it. Wasn't it on the kitchen table?"

She knew must've answered her mother, because she could hear herself speaking, but it didn't sound like her voice, and she couldn't understand the words. She went through dinner almost in a sort of a trance. She heard her mother and Phil talking, and she heard herself answering them, but she had no idea what was being said. She ate, but she couldn't taste anything. She could've been eating dirt for all she knew. It was like her brain had split in two. One half focused on talking and eating and looking normal, and the other half, the half that felt real, focused solely on what she had just read.

"…_God gifts us with many miracles in our lives. He leaves it to us to choose to accept them or turn away…_ ..._You have found each other along your path in life by His will, and He will walk it with you if you ask Him… ...do not hide your fears from each other, be honest and open with each other… ...chose to accept or turn away_…"

Afterdinner, Phil and her mother went to the batting cages. When he spoke Baseball, he may as well have been speaking Greek, because neither of them understood a word of it, but her mother was trying to learn.

_What is a "K" anyway? When one guy gets one, it's bad, but when another guy gets one, it's good, and sometimes they write the K backwards. What's up with that? I'll have to ask Edward. _

Bella was getting _The Time Machine _DVD out to watch again when she realized what she'd just thought, and she dropped heavily down onto the couch and put her head in her hands.

_ Crap. I've got to stop doing that._

How had he become such a large part of her so quickly? She still felt like her brain was split in two, but now the two halves had flipped over, and the half that was focused on the words on the planner was the half that didn't feel real. She watched the movie for a while, until the scene when Alexander learns that he can't save Emma. It was her fate to die. He can't prevent it, because it was her death that caused him to build the time machine in the first place.

_If he saves her, and she doesn't die... then, he has no reason to build the time machine, because she is alive and well... but if he doesn't build the time machine, he can't be there to save her, and she dies... like she was supposed to... and he builds the time machine again to try to save her. No matter how many times he goes back to save her, she dies some other way, her death can't be prevented, because it was her death that started it._

Bella was starting to feel dizzy. She knew what she was trying to say, or rather to think, but she felt like she was running around in circles, and she couldn't make sense of it. Then, suddenly, she felt like the two halves of her brain slammed back together, and it made perfect sense. She couldn't understand now how she hadn't been able to understand before.

_ "...God gifts us with many miracles in our lives. He leaves it to us to choose to accept them or turn away…" _ _Michael gave me the desk, and I found Edward's letter. I chose to write to him, and he chose to write back. "…You have found each other along your path in life by His will…" Edward said he felt a strong connection to me, and I know I feel a strong connection to him. I know how well I feel like I know him. "...You will walk a path together, not knowing what lies around the corner, but be not afraid... ...He will walk it with you if you ask Him_…" "..._do not hide your fears from each other, be honest and open with each other…" _

_ That's exactly what I did. I got scared, and I chose to walk away. I never even told him why. Oh, Edward, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. It'll never happen again. I can't prevent you from living your life as you were meant to any more than Alexander could prevent Emma from dying as she was meant to. If you don't meet your wife one way, you'll meet her another way. You have to, because if you don't, Michael will never be born, because his father would never have been born, and he would not have been there to give me the desk in the first place._

Bella was giddy with laughter and sobbing tears at the same time, and it was the weirdest and best feeling ever. She laughed even harder as she put the DVD away and walked to her room.

_ It's a good thing Phil isn't here, if he saw me now, I doubt there would be anything I could say to convince him I'm not on drugs._

As she sat down at their desk for the first time in a week, Bella gently ran her fingers over the stained green leather.

_ I'm back, Edward. I'm here, and I will never leave again._

There were so many things to say, to ask, but first, she had to apologize. She hardly knew how to start.

_ "...He will walk it with you if you but ask Him..."_

Bella couldn't remember every actually, really praying for something before. Sure, she had said prayers at bedtime when she was little, and she remembered saying Grace with her Gramma at dinner when she visited, but this was different. Before, she'd just been going through the motions, saying the words she'd been taught to say; it wasn't something she actually _felt_. Not like this. This she could feel in her blood.

_ God, please... Please, all I want is for him to be happy, please._

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..ooOoo..

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Edward jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He sat up quickly and looked around, disoriented for a moment, before he remembered where he was.

"I am sorry, Edward. I didn't mean to startle you. I did not realize you were asleep."

After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Edward squinted in the now dark room, looking at the clock on the wall. They'd been at the hospital for over nine hours. Dr. Cullen was standing at the head of his father's bed, bent over examining him.

"Dr. Cullen," Edward stood up, stretched, and looked around the room, "do you know where my mother is?"

"She excused herself for a moment. I am sure she will be right back."

Edward stepped up to his father's bed and stood next to Dr. Cullen. At the sight of his father laying there, he gasped and turned quickly away covering his face with his hand. He was at least glad that his mother hadn't been there to see his reaction. The sight of his father had left Edward feeling sick to his stomach, and he swallowed hard against the nausea, taking a moment to compose himself before slowly turning back.

Dr. Cullen had turned away from his father and was watching him closely, concern written all over his face. "Edward?"

Edward shook his head determinedly and forced himself to look at his father.

_ How long had I been asleep?_

"I'm fine. I apologize. It was… just… the shock."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Edward. I can only imagine what you have been through today."

Dr. Cullen turned back to Edward, Sr. and finished his examination. Edward silently watched him work and felt a growing dread inside him, like his veins were turning to lead. His father was awake and staring blindly away from him across the room. He did not turn toward his son at the sound of his voice or show any indication that he was even aware he and Dr. Cullen were there. He was lying very still, but every once in a while his entire body would shudder, and he moaned in pain. His breathing was wheezy, gasping, as if he had just run up several flights of stairs.

_ That terrible blue color... it covers his entire face and neck. His cheeks... he looks as if he'd been beaten. _

After he completed his examination, Dr. Cullen straightened and took his stethoscope off. Edward spoke without taking his eyes off his father, his voice flat. "Dr. Cullen, please. Tell me the truth."

Dr. Cullen was quiet for a moment before answering reluctantly in a low voice, "Your father has the worst, most vicious case of pneumonia I have ever seen. His lungs are filling with fluid, and his breathing is becoming more and more labored. He is not taking in enough oxygen, which is causing the cyanosis. He has a very rapid, irregular heartbeat, and we have been unable to control his fever. I confess, I have never seen anything like it."

Edward closed his eyes as he tried to swallow past the tightness in his throat. "What can be done? Surely, there must be something that can be done."

Dr. Cullen shook his head slowly. "I am sorry, Edward. We are doing everything humanly possible, but, so far, nothing is helping."

Edward couldn't believe this was happening. Modern medicine was amazing, the things they could do, the discoveries that had been made, and things they now knew... There had to be _something_ that could be done. There _had_ to be.

His father had been fine this morning. This could not be happening. They had had breakfast together this morning. Edward thought back, trying to remember breakfast.

_ Was there some sign I missed? Did he eat? Did he cough or complain of a sore throat? What did we talk about? Why can I not remember? I… I may… never… have another chance… to talk to him. Why can I not remember what we talked about?_

"Edward. Look at me."

Almost against his will, Edward opened his eyes and looked at the other man.

"I know what you are thinking, and you are wrong."

Edward continued to look at the doctor; he didn't think he could turn away if he tried. "I don't… I don't… know… what you mean."

"Listen to me. Believe me. There is absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent this." As if a spell had been broken, Edward wasfinally able to look away. He felt as if all the air had been knocked out of him. Dr. Cullen's words... that was exactly what he had been thinking... but he was wrong.

"No. I should have… I should have noticed… something. There had to have been some sign, some indication." He continued in barely a whisper, "I cannot even remember what we discussed at breakfast."

Dr. Cullen spoke in his comforting, musical voice. "You are suffering from the shock of the suddenness of your father's illness. I am sure you will remember in time."

Edward wiped his hands over his face and shook his head. "Does he even know we are here?" Before Dr. Cullen could answer him, his father began coughing again, and his mother rushed into the room. This time the coughing was even worse, and his whole body jerked and shook with the force of his coughing. Dr. Cullen called loudly for a nurse a moment before Edward, Sr. began coughing up large amounts of blood.

Edward felt like he was trapped in a nightmare that kept getting worse. His mother gripped his arm like a vice as two nurses rushed into the room to assist Dr. Cullen, and he took a few steps back with her to make room for them to work.

Edward's legs began to feel week at the sight of so much blood, and he reached behind himself blindly feeling for something to grab onto to keep himself upright. He heard his mother quietly crying next to him, and he forced himself to focus on taking care of her and not think about anything else. _Father would want me to, would _expect_ me to take care of her... for him._

"Mother, come with me. Please... come away."

Although exhausted, Elizabeth fought against him as much as she could. Her body was beginning to tremble, but her gaze was locked firmly on her husband. "No, Edward, no, I cannot leave him. I cannot leave him."

He tried to step back toward the door, lightly tugging on his mother's arm. "Please, Mother, just for a moment. We will not go far, just the hall, but we must let Dr. Cullen and the nurses work. Please, come with me."

Dr. Cullen looked up from his work and spoke in the same authoritative voice which left no room for argument that he had used with Edward few minutes ago, "Elizabeth, go with your son. I give you my word, I will stay with him until you return."

Finally, his mother gave in and stepped back out of the room with him. Together, they sat on a bench in the hallway, and Elizabeth collapsed into her son's arms, her whole body shaking with her tears.

A nurse soon bustled past them carrying a small bundle of white in her arms, and Edward watched her enter the ward with an odd, growing sense of detachment. He felt as if he was watching a scene in a movie that he badly wanted to walk out of but could not, that he was trapped inside the movie with the scene happening around him. He also felt a growing anger that he could not explain. Although Edward knew it was irrational, he was growing angry at everyone and everything. He was angry at Dr. Cullen for not being able to do more to save his father. He was angry at his father for getting sick, for not being able to fight this off. He was angry at his mother for not having prevented this somehow. He was angry at the world for carrying on around him as if nothing was wrong. But more than anything, he was angry at himself for not being able to do something, _anything_, to help his father, for not having noticed _something_ wrong at breakfast

As he sat there holding his mother, Edward heard his father's coughing finally stop, and after a few more minutes, the same nurse hurried past them again carrying another small bundle, this one soaked with blood.

_ Coughing. It is too mild a word. There should be a different word for that God awful sound. _He sat there in a daze, unblinkingly staring, waiting. Waiting for what, he did not know. Waiting to wake up... Waiting to be told there was something that could be done after all, something that would make everything right again... Waiting to be told it was over...

Eventually, the two nurses who had first come to help Dr. Cullen came to tell them they could go back in, Dr. Cullen was waiting for them. They both had blood on their clothes. Edward did not know how long he and his mother had sat on that bench waiting. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. He stood and stretched. His body both ached and felt numb at the same time.

He turned and reached his hand down to his mother to help her up. She took his hand and stood but seemed unable to move. She took a deep breath and shook herself, as if coming out of a trance. "Forgive me, Edward. I should not have broken down like that."

Wrapping his arm around her, Edward held her gently and placed a kiss on her forehead. His beautiful, strong mother looked like a shell of her former self. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face was deathly pale, there were lines around her eyes and mouth, and her hair and clothing were in complete disarray. She looked to have become an old woman in a day, and as he offered her his arm, and they slowly walked back into the room, Edward was sure he looked no better.

Dr. Cullen was leaning over his father's bed, carefully adjusting his blankets. His white coat had been flung on an empty bed, and he had rolled up his shirt sleeves. Edward suspected he knew why.

He walked with his mother to his father's bedside, and she resumed her place in the chair next to his bed, reaching for his father's hand, but he whimpered and moaned in pain at her touch, and she dropped it immediately as if she had been burned. She turned wide, frightened eyes to the doctor, who could only shake his head sadly.

"I am afraid his fever has escalated further. It is now 104.8. He is delirious and in tremendous pain. Even the lightest touch causes him pain. I have given him an additional injection of morphine to make him as comfortable as possible, but I am afraid that is all I can do." He paused for a moment before continuing, "His lungs are continuing to fill with fluid, which is making his breathing more and more difficult and painful."

Elizabeth nodded her head and spoke to him without taking her eyes from her husband, resigned. "Thank you for everything you have done, Dr. Cullen." She could not continue and began quietly crying again. Dr. Cullen stepped forward handing her a handkerchief, which she accepted, and wiping her eyes, Elizabeth tried to compose herself. When she was able to speak again, she tore her eyes away from her husband and looked at the doctor. Her eyes held so much pain that both Dr. Cullen and Edward knew what she was going to ask before she spoke. "How long?"

Dr. Cullen shook his head sadly. "I do not know. Not long. A few hours, perhaps. Not longer. Possibly less."

Elizabeth felt as if the world was being ripped out from under her. She could hear her son and Dr. Cullen speaking to her, and she wanted to respond, but she could not make her body obey her wishes. She could see Edward kneel before her and could see him holding her hands, but she could not feel his skin against hers. She tried but could not speak to him. A blackness was creeping all around her, and it was closing in. She heard her son calling her, but his voice seemed to sound as if it was coming from far away and drifting further away every second. The blackness nearly surrounded her now, and she tried to fight it off, but it continued to creep in, and she could feel herself falling.

"Mother!" Edward caught his mother as she fainted, and Dr. Cullen helped him lay her down in the bed next to his father's before leaving briefly and returning with smelling salts. He waved them beneath her nose, and she slowly opened her eyes, looking around the room in momentary confusion before her eyes rested on her husband and immediately filled with tears again. She tried to rise but Dr. Cullen prevented her. "Mrs. Masen, when was the last time you ate?"

Looking at him, bewildered, she tried to rise again. "I… I don't… earlier… the nurses… I have to go to him."

Edward was shaking and struggled force the words through the tightness in his throat. "The nurses were kind enough to bring us some dinner earlier, but she did not touch it."

Dr. Cullen nodded his head. "I thought as much." He helped her stand slowly and walked with her to her husband's bedside before turning to Edward. "And you, did you eat?"

Behind his mother with his hand on her shoulder, Edward had to swallow several times before speaking again. "A little."

"I know it is late, but you may be in for a very long night. You both must eat something. I am going to go and see what I can find for you both."

Neither mother nor son spoke while the doctor was gone, both silently maintaining their vigil at Edward, Sr.'s bedside, watching helplessly as he fought to breathe. He was in a deep sleep now, as a result of the latest injection of morphine, but every breathe he drew was an agonized, desperate gasp for air.

Dr. Cullen returned with some fruit and cheese and instructed them to eat. "You must keep up your strength. I will not have either of you falling ill as well." He stayed only long enough to satisfy himself that they had both at least eaten some of it before instructing them not to hesitate to send for him if there was anything they needed and leaving to give them some privacy.

A short while after he left, the nurses from earlier returned in fresh, clean uniforms and turned down the beds on either side of his father. "Dr. Cullen thought you might be more comfortable if you lie down for a short while, Mrs. Masen."

Elizabeth showed no sign she'd heard them or had even noticed they were there. Edward thanked them, but he knew his mother would not move from her seat until… Until.

The minutes passed and turned into hours as his father slipped further and further away from them. That horrible blue color was darkening as his breathing grew steadily more and more labored, and Edward thought he could actually hear the liquid that was drowning him gurgling in his lungs as he struggled to draw breath.

Dr. Cullen returned at least once an hour to examine his father and check on them. Edward's only consolation was that his father did not wake at all, and there were no more coughing fits. He clung to the hope that at least in his sleep, his father was not in pain.

Finally, hours later, his father's breathing started to grow more and more shallow, weaker. Elizabeth grasped her husband's hand one last time, kissed it, and held it to face as she cried. Edward's eyes were riveted to his father as the time between his breaths grew, and without realizing it, he was holding his own breath, silently counting, waiting for his father's next breath.

..._twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…_

Dr. Cullen silently entered the room and bent over his father. Edward's lungs began to protest in earnest, but he did not inhale.

_ ...thirty-four, thirty-five…_

Dr. Cullen straightened, and Edward saw him look quickly at the clock on the wall before speaking.

"Mrs. Masen, Edward, I am so terribly sorry."

Not speaking, his mother continued to sit there holding her husband's hand to her cheek and crying. Trying in vain to fight back his tears, Edward closed his eyes tightly and forced out the words to thank Dr. Cullen for everything he had done for them.

At home some time later–it could have been several hours later, Edward really had no idea–he was sitting in his room at his desk, alone, and staring at the green leather. His mother was finally in bed asleep, but she had been unable to bear facing the room she had shared with her husband and was in a guest room. When he'd arrived home with his mother, he'd been unspeakably grateful to find both that Nellie and Maggie had waited up for them. Both women had fallen asleep on the couches in the parlor, but they awoke the moment he and his mother entered the room and quickly took charge of his mother, getting her upstairs and undressed and into bed. Before he and his mother had left the hospital, Dr. Cullen had given him a small envelope containing four Veronal tablets to help them sleep. Edward had given his mother one once she was in bed, and she'd cried herself to sleep a short while later. He had not taken one himself, but Maggie had insisted on leaving one with a glass of water on the table beside his bed.

Once closed in his room for the night, Edward had prepared for bed, but he could not bring himself to lie down. He was utterly exhausted and felt weary to his bones, but he knew he would be unable to sleep. He felt numb and lost and alone, and without thinking about what he was doing, he picked up his pen and opened a pot of ink and wrote only three words on a small slip of paper. The moment he opened the hidden compartment and saw Bella's letter laying there waiting for him, Edward gave in to the tears he had been trying to fight all evening, and he picked up her letter with shaking hands and put the small slip of paper in its place. Laying his forehead down on his desk next to her letter and clasping his hands behind his neck, he let his tears fall as he remembered his father.

He remembered his sixth birthday when he opened up his gift, his very first baseball and mitt... They had spent all day in the yard as his father taught him to throw and to catch, with his mother watching them from the back porch and encouraging him. They'd had yellow cake with chocolate icing and strawberry ice cream, his favorite.

He thought about all the baseball games he and his father had gone to. The best had to be the first game of the World Series last year against New York. The Sox won by a single run. Eddie Cicotte threw a complete game, Edward remembered, and Happy Felsch hit a home run in the forth, which turned out to be the difference in the game. The Giants had a chance in the 8th when Benny Kauff reached on a Fred McMullin error, but there were already two down, and Cicotte picked him off. He and his father had been on their feet cheering wildly with the rest of the crowd.

He remembered all the chess matches and how patiently his father had taught him the game.

He remembered his father teaching him to drive, and he remembered all the Sunday drives and picnics with his parents. His father loved cars and driving, and his new Cadillac Type 57 Touring Car was… had been his most prized possession.

Edward sat, thinking about his father for quite some time before eventually picking Bella's letter back up.

_Dear Edward,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written sooner. I think I've been lost in a fog of my own. It made me very happy to read that you feel a strong connection to me, I feel a strong connection to you, too. But it also scared me. Edward, I know you're only 17, and I know you've got your whole life in front of you, but please understand, from my point of view, you've already lived your life. You've already fallen in love, gotten married, and had children and grandchildren. I got scared. I started to worry that I might somehow unintentionally screw that up for you. It was only just a few minutes ago that I realized I can't, or at least I really don't think I can. I read The _Time Machine_, and I got the movie. The movie adds quite a bit to the story. It was directed by H. G. Wells' great grandson, by the way. The Time Traveler lives in New York instead of London. In the movie, the Traveler is named Dr. Alexander Hartdegen. He is engaged to a woman named Emma, who is killed by a robber, and he invents the time machine to go back and prevent her murder. He does prevent the murder, but she dies another way. No matter what he does or how many time he tries, he cannot save her, because it was her death that caused him to build the time machine in the first place. If she doesn't die, he will never invent the time machine to go back and prevent her murder. I can't accidentally prevent you from meeting your wife and having your family, because if you don't have your family, I will never meet your grandson and get your desk to be able to write to you in the first place. Am I making any sense? I'm confused and my head is going around in circles, but I think I understand. I'm sorry I didn't at least tell you what I was afraid of. I read something today that said we shouldn't hide our fears from the people we care about, we should be honest and open with them. I'm sorry I didn't do that. I got scared, and I made a decision that affected us both without even telling you, and I'm sorry._

_Your family was really going to sail on the Titanic? That's incredible. Thank God you didn't. How did your mother convince your father? I'm so sorry about your aunt and uncle and your cousins. Your poor mother, she must've been devastated. Not just her sister, but the children, too. It's no wonder she hasn't gotten over it. I don't have any brothers or sisters, but I'm sure I would feel the same way._

_You're welcome to try to teach me about baseball, but I'm warning you, don't get your hopes up. I still think it's a lot of standing around and waiting. I'm glad your team won, though. Phil plays outfield too. He was all excited the other night because, let me try to get this right, he "snow-coned one as it went over the wall". What does that mean? And what is a "K"? And why is it sometimes written backwards? I was happy to read about your double play; I will remember that one, at least._

_I see what you mean about Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth. I liked Persuasion, but I think I like it more now. _

_I went with my mom and Phil this morning to a meeting with the Reverend about their wedding. I was thinking about you and how you used that sonnet to describe them. I'm going to read it during the ceremony. I feel really guilty, though. My mom is so happy because she thinks I thought of it for her, but I have to admit, I was only thinking about you. _

_Babysitting is when you watch someone's children for them when they have to go out._

_The capitol of Illinois is Chicago._

_I will read some of the books you mentioned. Write to me soon._

_Your friend,_

_Bella_

As grief stricken as Edward was, he couldn't help but smile at what she wrote. She was worried about him. He didn't like that she was upset, of course, but he was deeply touched that she cared that much about him.

…_we shouldn't hide our fears from the people we care about__… _

_ She cares about me, too. She feels connected to me, too._

He reread her letter and shook his head.

_Honestly, Bella. Chicago?_

He yawned deeply as he reached for another piece of paper and sent her another small note. Standing and stretching, Edward yawned again. He was still devastated at his father's death, all of the pain was still there, but the feeling of being lost and alone was easing, and the pain was easier to bear. He knew he would be able to sleep without having to take a Veronal tablet now.

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..ooOoo..

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Is everyone happy Bella came to her senses in time to be there for Edward when he needed her?

It's my understanding that Edward's father died in the first wave of the epidemic. There is some conflicting info online about when exactly the first wave was. The symptoms of the Spanish flu were so severe, doctors at the time didn't even classify it as influenza, so deaths could've been attributed to any of a number of things. I saw a chart online that showed a small rise in deaths that were attributed to the flu in July, so that's what I went with for Edward, Sr. I didn't realize until it was too late to change it that it was a chart for the U.K., but by then it was too worked into the time line and I couldn't change it.

Edward and his mother have a temporary reprieve, but their time will come. I don't want to go too much into the flu right now, but much more will come later. I tried to be as accurate as possible with the symptoms of the Spanish flu. The Spanish flu was sometimes called "Purple Death" or "Blue Death" because of the cyanosis caused by a lack of oxygen in the blood. Several websites I read said that sometimes, the blue color became so pronounced it was actually difficult to determine the patient's original skin color. During the worst of it, triaging nurses would check new patients' feet. If the feet were black, the patient was deemed beyond help, and they had no choice but to move on to someone else who they had a hope of saving. It sounds terrible, but you have to remember how desperately short staffed they already were and people were falling sick by the 100's of 1000's.

On a much lighter note, the details Edward remembers the first game of the 1917 World Series are accurate. It was very considerate of the 1917 White Sox to win, don't you think? It fits so well in my story...


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to my PTB beta, Thir13eenth!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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The author of the poem Bella sends Edward is Mary Elizabeth Frye.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

_ Ugh, where is that stupid beeping noise coming from? Oh. Right. _Groaning as she buried her head under her pillow, Bella reached out blindly for the snooze button. _I'd like mornings much better if they didn't start so early. Forget diamonds, the snooze button is this girl's best friend. _

Twenty minutes and several snooze buttons later, Bella forced herself to get out of bed and walked with her eyes half shut to her bathroom, "Ow!" and stubbed her pinky toe on the corner of her desk. _Ow, ow, ow, ow! Perfect. Happy Freaking Monday. _Holding onto the desk, she hopped to her chair to take a look at her foot. _Hmm, no blood, not broken. Just hurts like hell. _She stood up and took few tentative steps around her room. _Hurts, but I've had worse. _

Sitting back down, Bella looked around her room. She couldn't remember it, but she thought she must've had a bad dream last night because she had an anxious, sick feeling, like something terrible had happened. Shrugging it off as her imagination, Bella looked down at her desk and ran her fingers over the green leather as she thought about Edward. _It hasn't been that long since I wrote to him. He might not even have read it yet, let alone written back._ She decided she might as well check, or she'd be wondering about it all day. When she looked, she was happy to see that something was there, but was surprised that it was only two small scraps of paper. She picked them both up and laughed as she read the first one.

_Chicago? Honestly, Bella. The capitol of Illinois is Springfield. _

_ Cocky, Edward, very cocky. Where are your Victorian manners? Isn't it rude to tease a girl? Hmm, I wonder if he'd believe me if I wrote back and said they changed it, and it's Chicago now?_ Still smiling, she read the second one and felt her stomach drop to her feet as her smile was erased from her face and tears immediately sprang to her eyes.

_My father died._

_ Oh, God. Oh, Edward. Oh, God, Edward, I'm so sorry. _Heartbroken for him, Bella wanted to write back right away, but she didn't know what she could possibly say to help and sat there for a few minutes wiping the tears from her eyes feeling completely useless. What could she possible say to help him? She'd never lost anyone so close to her, and she couldn't imagine what he was going through. She'd lost her grandparents, but that was different. Not that she didn't love them–she did–but it wasn't like she thought losing a parent would be.

_And it must've been very sudden. He never mentioned that his father was sick, and in his first letter to his cousin, he'd said he and his father went to a baseball game together, that was only a month ago. _

She tried to remember back to her grandparents' funerals, trying to think of something, _anything_, that someone had said that at least didn't sound lame. _There was that poem... What was it again?_ She couldn't remember much of it, but she hoped what little she remembered would be enough to search it online.

As she went to the living room to use the computer, she wished again she could have one in her room. Her mother was already up and reading the paper in the kitchen. "Bella? Haven't you gotten in the shower yet?"

Distracted, Bella tapped her fingers on the small computer desk, impatiently waiting for it to turn on. "I will in a sec. I just need to check something real quick first." Hopefully, her mother wouldn't ask any more questions; she needed to find this and write to Edward as soon as she could. Once finally online, she found the poem she was looking for and quickly copied it down. "Got it." She looked up at the clock. Crap. She had hit the snooze button one or two–okay, four–too many times, and she really was running late, but this couldn't wait. If she was late, so be it; this was more important. "I'll just take a real quick shower. In and out."

Back in her room, sore toe completely forgotten, Bella wrote a short note to Edward telling him how sorry she was on the other side of the poem.

After showering and dressing as quickly as she could without risking serious bodily injury, and with her still wet hair pulled back into a ponytail, Bella grabbed a pop tart on her way out the door, yelled good-bye to her mother, and made it to the bus stop just in time.

Thinking about Edward and his father led her to thinking about her own father. She was glad she had decided to just stay in Forks when she visited him. By this time, she knew, he'd already be at work, and even though he'd told her it didn't matter–he was the boss after all–she didn't like to call him at work. _I know I just called on Saturday, but I really do want to talk to him. Maybe just for a minute. _ There was plenty of time before homeroom, and she found a relatively quiet spot to call.

"Forks Police Department, may I help you?"

She didn't recognize the voice, but whoever it was sounded very young. She remembered her dad mentioning the police department had been approved for a state grant and had hired a new part-time officer. This must be him. "This is Bella Swan, Charlie's daughter. Is my dad around?"

"Oh, hey, Bella. It's nice to put a voice to the name. Your dad talks about you all the time. Hang on, lemme get him."

She only had to wait a few seconds before her dad picked up. "Bells? What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong, Dad. I just wanted to say good morning."

"Good morning. Now what's wrong?"

She laughed a little thinking she really needed to loosen up a bit if she was so set in a pattern that breaking it automatically made people assume something must be wrong. "Really, Dad, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to say hi."

"You're sure? You never call in the morning and you never call me at work."

"Yeah, Dad, really. I'm sure. I just wanted to say good morning."

"I didn't think you thought there was any such thing as a good morning. Didn't you say it was contradiction in terms?"

That was one way she was more like her mom than her dad. Her dad was a morning person. She very definitely was not. "Oh, ha ha. This from the man who says _I_ have no future as a comedian. Good thing the police thing worked out."

They both laughed for a few seconds. "I gotta go, Dad. I have to get to homeroom. I just wanted to say have a good day." As an afterthought she added, "And be careful."

"Always am. You have a good day and be careful, too. Don't fall down any stairs or, you know, get hit by any falling meteors or anything."

"Oh, ha ha, you're on a roll today. I already had my daily accident, got it over and done with three steps out of bed. Stubbed my toe."

Both laughing, they said good bye, and she walked to homeroom still thinking about her dad.

_ I know it's only Forks, but still... he is a cop. If anything happened to him, I don't know what I'd do._

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..ooOoo..

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Edward lie in his bed, listening to the rain pounding against his window. The sun that had made a brief appearance yesterday was gone again. _I'm glad it's raining. It should not be sunny today. _He knew he had to get up, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

It was still relatively early, and he hadn't heard anyone else moving around yet. He hoped his mother would sleep late. Yesterday and last night had been horrible, and today would be nearly as bad. There was no need for her to start it any earlier than necessary.

Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward thought about what was to come today.

He was the man of the house now, and there were things he was going to have to do today that he was dreading. His uncles would need to be telephoned first thing. He would need to telephone Mr. Carrington, hopefully he could take care of anything work related. His father's attorney would need to be telephoned, and… and... the arrangements… would need to be made.

He was dreading seeing his father laid out in the parlor. When he looked in the parlor, he wanted to remember his father playing chess or sitting there reading the paper, not laid out in a casket. His uncles, aunts, and cousins would need to be picked up at the station. How soon could they get here? Where would they stay? Would they expect to be put up here at the house, or would they prefer a hotel? Hopefully, Uncle Richard, Aunt Josephine, and Timothy would prefer a hotel; he really did not want to have to suffer their staying at the house on top of everything else. Uncle Michael, Aunt Louise, Mic, Laura, and Tommy, though, he'd gladly have at the house. Arrangements would need to be made for Mic, of course, but they would manage it somehow. Uncle Michael would be helpful, where Uncle Richard would only be interfering, and Aunt Louise would be a great help to his mother, where Aunt Josephine would be, well, Aunt Josephine would be Aunt Josephine, and that was all that needed to be said about that. The most he could hope for there was that she didn't kick up a fuss.

_ Pity I have to ask both to stay._

Checking the clock, Edward decided he had put it off as long as he could, sat up, and tried to motivate himself to actually get out of bed. From where he sat, he could see his desk and Bella's letter still lying there. He hadn't put it away with the others last night. Just thinking of her and how much better he felt after reading her letter helped him find the strength to start the day. Just knowing she was out there, or would be one day, and was thinking about him made him feel better.

He sat down at his desk and read her letter again, and again he couldn't help but smile in spite of his grief. The now familiar handwriting on the unusual paper written by the unusual pen made him feel like he could endure anything.

He wanted to write to her, but it would have to wait. At least, it would give him something to look forward to. It was too much to hope she'd already written to him, but he couldn't help hoping she had. As he opened the hidden compartment in the top drawer and saw her letter waiting for him, the feeling of being lost and alone faded completely. He wasn't alone. He still had his mother and his aunts and uncles and cousins. He still had his friends. He still had a mentor in Dr. Cullen, and he still had his work at the hospital. And he had Bella.

_She's definitely in a class by herself. _

The pain of his father's sudden death eased a little more as he read the poem she sent him.

_Do not stand at my grave and weep,_

_I am not there. I do not sleep._

_I am in a thousand winds that blow,_

_I am the softly falling snow._

_I am the gentle showers of rain,_

_I am the fields of ripening grain._

_I am in the morning hush,_

_I am in the graceful rush_

_Of beautiful birds in circling flight,_

_I am the starshine of the night._

_I am in the flowers that bloom,_

_I am in a quiet room._

_I am in the birds that sing,_

_I am in each lovely thing._

_Do not stand at my grave and cry,_

_I am not there. I did not die._

He flipped the page over and read her letter.

_Edward,_

_I don't have much time, I have to leave for school soon. I just had to tell you how very sorry I am about your father. May I ask what happened, or is that inappropriate? _

_Someone gave us a card with this poem on it when my grandmother died. The words aren't mine, I'm not at all poetic, but I hope they will help._

_Your friend,_

_Bella_

Writing to her could not wait, not now. He had to thank her. He wrote just a few lines before getting up and quickly dressing to start the day.

The smell of coffee brewing reached him on the stairs, and Edward suddenly realized how hungry he was. As he entered the kitchen, he saw that Nellie was just putting muffins into the oven. She had to have been up and about for a while now, but she must have taken such care to keep quiet that he had not heard a sound, not so much as a single floor board creak.

He paused a moment and berated himself as he remembered two people he should have included in the list of people he still had. _You are some kind of snob, Edward Masen, to have not thought of them sooner after all their help last night._

"Good morning, Nellie. I did not realize you were already awake, I did not hear anyone about." Nellie jumped slightly. "Oh! Oh, Mr. Masen, good morning. You startled me. I did not hear you."

_Mr. Masen... _ She had called him Mr. Masen. The pain inside Edward sprung forward again. He wasn't Mr. Edward anymore. He was Mr. Masen now. He swallowed past the lump that had begun to form in his throat and focused on the poem Bella had sent him to beat the pain back. He could let himself feel it later; right now, he had things to do.

"Nellie, I would like to thank you for your help last night. I cannot tell you how grateful I am." Blushing, Nellie looked down as she murmured, "It was no trouble, nothing at all. Anything for you and your dear mother, Sir." She hurried busily around the kitchen. "Now, then. You just sit yourself down, and let me get you some breakfast. I had hoped the blueberry muffins would be ready before you or your mother were down. I do hope Mrs. Masen will not rise too early. The poor lady needs her rest. I had hoped you would not be down so early yourself."

Edward took the cup of steaming hot coffee she offered him with an appreciative sigh and held it, inhaling the aroma, before shaking his head. "There are too many things that need to be done today. Delaying them will only make them harder still."

There was a knock at the door as Nellie was beating eggs, and she set the whisk down and wiped her hands on her apron, but Edward had already risen and said he would answer the door himself. Knowing the phone telephone calls he would need to make was making him anxious. Now that he was up, he wanted to get everything over with, and sitting still even for just a few minutes was making him restless.

He could not imagine who could be calling on them this early in the morning, since no one yet knew of his father's death, and was surprised to see Dr. Cullen at the door. "Dr. Cullen, please, won't you come in?"

Dr. Cullen stepped inside and placed his umbrella in a stand near in the entryway. "Thank you, Edward. I was on my home from the hospital, and I wanted to check on you and your mother." Edward led Dr. Cullen to the parlor and offered him breakfast, which the doctor politely refused explaining, "I am on a different schedule from most people, this is the end of the day for me."

"My mother is still asleep. She took a Veronal soon after we returned."

"That is good, I am glad to hear it. You should have taken one yourself."

"I did not need one."

Dr. Cullen leaned forward slightly, and when he spoke his voice was filled with obvious concern and compassion. "Edward, I cannot tell you how very sorry I am for your loss. I will not pretend to know what you are suffering, I cannot imagine. My own father died many years ago, and we were… estranged, for quite some time, to put it mildly. I did not even know of his death until some time afterward. But you cannot neglect yourself. You need to sleep. These next days and weeks will be very difficult for both you and your mother. You need to keep your strength up ."

Edward was very touched by the doctor's concern for him and was quick to reassure him. "I was able to sleep without taking anything." The older man did not look convinced so he continued. "Actually, I had a letter from my friend. In Arizona. I found it when we returned last night. I mentioned her to you."

_ Only just yesterday morning. Was it really only just yesterday morning? It feels as if it was ages ago. _

The doctor looked at him with a very knowing look in his eyes. Edward had never noticed before, but Dr. Cullen had the oddest color eyes. Not brown, they were almost like butterscotch. For a brief moment, Edward felt goosebumps run up his back, and he forgot what he was about to say.

"Yes, you mentioned your friend to me."

_Right, Bella. Bella's letter. _ He was saying he had just received a letter from Bella. But what was he going to say about Bella's letter? _The poem. Right, the poem. _ "She sent me a poem someone had given them when her grandmother passed away. It was... very helpful."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Edward realized his mistake, and he could have kicked himself. There was no possible way he could have received a conventional letter including a poem in condolence for his father's death already. He had been going to mention the sonnet, not the poem.

"That is a sad coincidence, indeed. I am sorry for the young lady's loss, but I am glad the poem gave you some peace."

Edward felt his shoulders sag slightly with relief. _Thank heaven. He thinks Bella's grandmother died very recently, and she shared the poem with me in mourning herself, unaware of my own. _

Dr. Cullen rose to leave. "I will not take up more of your time this morning. I am sure you have much to do."

Thanking him for calling on them, Edward escorted him to the door. After pulling on driving gloves and retrieving his umbrella, Dr. Cullen shook his hand and again offered his condolences and assistance if there was anything he could do for them.

The day passed in a blur and proved to be every bit as trying as he expected, and when Edward closed his door that night he leaned back against it, his hand still clenching the knob, thankful it was over.

After Dr. Cullen had left, Edward ate quickly and made his phone calls. His uncles had been exactly what he expected, Uncle Richard was difficult, and Uncle Michael was consoling. Remembering his conversation with his Uncle Richard, Edward could feel his temper rising. It had been only the fact that his mother was asleep that kept him from raising his voice.

_ "We will arrive early Monday afternoon. Michael will come, and we will join him in Philadelphia and arrive together. Louise and the children will, of course, be unable make the trip. The inconvenience to everyone with young Michael will be too great. _

_ "I will contact your father's attorney shortly and make an appointment to meet with him that afternoon regarding the will. There is no need to drag things out. He will be viewed on Tuesday and buried on Wednesday." _

The audacity of the man never ceased to amaze Edward. _If he thinks for one moment he is going to dictate to me what is to be done, he is in for a very rude awakening. _Edward had let his uncle know most decidedly that HE would making the arrangements for his father's viewing and funeral, and HE would be contacting and meeting with his father's attorney regarding the will. Closing his eyes and sighing tiredly, Edward leaned his head back against the door. _He never even expressed any sorrow at his brother's death. I suppose, perhaps, that is better than had he pretended. His insincere condolences would have been intolerable. _

Edward already knew the terms of his father's will, and he knew that both he and his Uncle Michael were the executors. A small smile crept onto his face at the thought, and he looked over at his bookshelf, where he kept Bella's letters in a large envelope of the sort his father used for his legal papers. _That ought to get Uncle Richard's dander up. _

Thinking about Bella and the poem she had sent him was what had given him the strength and the patience to get through the day. He did not know how many times today he had recited those words to himself. Now, at last, he would be able to write to her and thank her properly, to tell her how much she had come to mean to him.

Edward moved the books on the shelf and revealed the large envelope. The letters inside were tied together with a green silk ribbon, and he took them all out to reread them before writing to her. As always, he felt an incredible sense of peace wash through him as he read her words. Somehow, in less than one month, she had come to mean more to him than almost anyone, and he resolved to tell her how he felt about her.

A sudden blush colored his face, and he cleared his throat both in surprise at the strength of his feelings and in embarrassment, as if someone had caught him behaving in an ungentlemanly manner. _Yes, well, how I feel, more or less, at least._

For what seemed like forever, Edward sat staring at a blank piece of paper trying to think of the right words to express himself. He somehow knew, instinctively, just as he had known something was wrong when so long had gone between her letters, that these could well be the most important words he would ever write, and he began and rejected several attempts before he was happy with his letter. Edward recognized that he had overstepped what was polite in the detail of his father's illness he'd gone into, and he apologized to her for it, but striking out his words never occurred to him. Just as reading her letter last night gave him enough peace to sleep, so did writing to her tonight.

_ Some things she wrote do seem odd, though. What did she mean when she said she "got" the movie? Does "got" mean "saw" in her time? And why would she assume Mother persuaded Father to sail on a different ship instead of Titanic? _

He smiled and rubbed his tired eyes as he remembered his parents _discussing_ their trip on the Titanic. His mother's absolute adamance that she would not set foot on the ship, and his father's equally adamant insistence that she was being unreasonable. Of course, given the magnitude of the tragedy, his parents never spoke of the matter again, but if ever a look could say, "What did I tell you?" his mother's did at the breakfast table the morning following tragedy.

_ I will have a grandson named Michael. Or I already do have. Even a great grandson, perhaps. It is too much to comprehend._

He was ashamed to admit, even to himself, the stirring he'd felt inside him when she admitted to him that that sonnet, their sonnet, now made her think of him, and he stared at the letter for another moment, his eyes locked on her name, before putting it in the hidden compartment.

_ Bella. Beautiful. How perfectly appropriate._

.

..ooOoo..

.

"Bella, sweetie I wish you would tell me what's wrong."

Bella was sitting at the kitchen table with her mom and Phil eating dinner. Well, actually she was sitting at the kitchen table with them while they ate dinner. She just twirled her spaghetti on her fork over and over without taking a bite. "I'm fine."

All day long, all Bella could think of was what Edward must be going through or what she would do if something ever happened to her dad. She was glad they would be staying in Forks, and she had decided that, if it was alright with him, instead of going somewhere and only seeing him for two weeks this summer, she would stay with him in Forks for a month.

When she began playing with her dinner again, her mother pushed own her plate away, leaned across the table, and took her hand. "Bella, you're not fine. You don't eat. You don't talk. Once this past week, I watched you sit and stare at the same page of a book for an hour. Please, baby, talk to me."

Knowing she had to come up with something to put her mother off, Bella dropped her fork onto her plate, sighed, and looked down at the table for a few moments to try and stall for time while she tried to think. She remembered something she'd heard once. _The best lie sticks as close to the truth as possible. _She picked her head back up but kept her eyes down. _Don't look at her. _Don't _look at her._ "It's just... it's just... I heard some kids talking on the bus. One of the girls was crying, and her friends were worried about her. The girl's father died. I couldn't really make out what all they said, but I guess it was really sudden." _Good, good, that's good._ Sighing again, Bella kept her eyes down and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I'm just worried about Dad."

Her mother took her hand again and squeezed it tightly. "Oh, Baby. Your dad is just fine. He's healthy, and he's careful. Nothing is going to happen to him"

"I think I'll just go give him a call. I can heat this up latter."

"Sure, Honey. You go. I'll wrap it up and put it in the fridge for you."

Bella felt bad about lying to her mom, but there was no way around it.

She really wanted to see if there was a letter from Edward yet. After the day he must have had, she realized there probably wouldn't be one yet. It would probably be late before he had time to write, and by then he might be too tired, but she wanted to check to be sure so she could write back as soon as possible. Besides, she reasoned to herself, if she really did call her dad it wouldn't be a complete lie.

She went straight to their desk to look, but she was right, there was nothing there yet. Although she expected it, she was still disappointed and blew some hair out of her face that had fallen out of her pony tail and into her eyes.

To kill some time before looking again, Bella called her dad and was now waiting for her him to pick up.

"Hey, Bells."

_ How did he know it was me?_ "How did you know it was me?"

He chuckled, "Father's intuition."

"Father's intuition?"

"Yup."

"Okay, then."

"Yup."

"So, when did you get so intuitive?"

He chuckled again, "Right about the time you started calling every other night. I added more minutes to your cell phone plan, by the way."

Hearing her father's voice sound so happy was making Bella's eyes well up, and she wiped them before the tears could fall. _Edward will never hear his father's voice again. _

Distracted and trying to force back the tears, Bella missed the rest of what he said. "Sorry, Dad. What did you say?" Her voice sounded all wrong–pinched, strained–and she knew her dad would catch it.

"You okay, Bells?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just…" C_rap. Think. Think. Think. Think! _"Just spit out a real sour piece of candy. It was gross." _Should I be worried about getting better at lying? _

"You know you don't like the sour ones. I just asked what you were doing."

_ Oh, nothing much. Just sitting around waiting to hear from my pen pal. Did I mention, he's 108. How about you? Watching a game?_ Covering her mouth, Bella stifled the laugh that wanted to escape at the thought of her father's reaction if she told him that. "Nothing much, just, you know, sitting around. How about you?"

"Billy's here. We're filling out our March Madness brackets."

Bella knew her father and Billy were trying to get their friendship back on track after their big blow up, but it was still on very shaky ground. "Billy's there? That's good. How's that going?"

She heard her father ask Billy if he wanted another one, and she guessed, correctly, that he was making an excuse to leave the room. "It's going." That was about as much of an answer as she expected. Her father really was not one to talk about _stuff_, which was what had made his tirade a few weeks ago all the more worrying.

"So, you're still keeping in touch with Tanya?"

"Um, yeah. She… ah… she… she calls… or… you know… I call."

"Good. That's great. I'm looking forward to meeting her and the infamous Cullens. Any chance she'll be around for Easter?"

"I don't think you could avoid her if you tried."

Her dad was trying not to test his and Billy's renewed, but still very tentative, friendship and was speaking in a whisper so he wouldn't be overheard, but Bella was excited and grinning widely. After everything she had heard from her father about them, she was really looking forward to meeting Tanya and her family. Nothing new ever happened in Forks, _ever_, and for a family of could-be supermodels, who just happened to be rich and the father just happened to be a brilliant surgeon, to move to town was Very Definitely New. Well, it was a year old apparently, but it was new to her. "Great. I can't wait."

She heard her father say something to Billy, but couldn't make it, out and heard him open a can of beer. _Roger, Houston. No more about the Cullens. _

"Um, Dad? I was thinking…."

Her father's voice faded a bit, as if he moved the phone away a little. "Oh no. Billy, the girl is thinking again."

"Oh, very funny. I was thinking, maybe... I should just come to Forks this summer, too. I can read while you fish."

Her father let out an exasperated sigh. "What's this really about Bells? You've never liked Forks, now you can't get enough of it."

"Yeah, well… Forks never had a resident family of ostracized supermodels before. You did say one of the brothers was free, didn't you?"

Her father didn't say anything after that, but that didn't surprise her. She needed to get away from the subject of why she wanted to stay in Forks, and all teenage girls knew that nothing would throw their father off his train of thought faster than the dreaded "B word". "Besides, I thought maybe I'd stay a little longer, if that's okay, I mean. Give mom and Phil a little time alone. Would a month be okay?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. She wasn't worried about mentioning her mom and Phil anymore, not since Tanya came into the picture, but she was getting nervous as the silence dragged on. Chewing anxiously on her lip, Bella asked, "Dad? You still there? You didn't get hit by a falling meteor, did you?"

Her dad was whispering again, but this time it had nothing to do with trying to not be overheard. "You, you want to come here, to Forks... to stay with me... for a month?"

She recognized the way his voice sounded, incredulous, disbelieving, and Bella berated herself. _I'm a terrible daughter. I am a TERRIBLE daughter._ "Yeah, if that's OK?"

Once again, her words were met with several seconds of silence before her father spoke. "Of course, it's okay, Bells."

"Great. Great, then We can talk about it when I come up."

"Yeah. When you, when you... come up. That'll, that'll be good... That'll be... great."

"Okay, then. Great. I, um, I better get going, Dad... I have, um, homework, and... stuff."

"Yeah, I, I should go too. I gotta drive Billy back to the rez."

"Okay. Good night, then. Tell Billy good night, too."

"Will do."

"I love you, Dad."

There was another short silence before her dad answered quietly, "You too, Bells."

Just as she was about to hang up, Bella remembered something she wanted to ask him. "Oh, hey, Dad, wait a sec, you still there?"

She was afraid he'd already hung up, but he answered, "Yeah, I'm here."

"What's a backwards 'K'?"

"_What_?" Her father sounded like that was the last thing he ever expected her to ask.

"A backwards 'K', in baseball. What's it mean?"

"You're asking me about baseball?" It was clear he was completely shocked.

"Yeah. What's a backwards 'K'?"

"Who are you?"

Rolling her eyes, Bella smiled. "You should try stand up, really."

"You're asking me about baseball?" her father asked again.

"Yes, I'm asking you about baseball, or at least I'm trying to. You know baseball? A bunch of guys standing around waiting and then running and trying to chase down a little white ball some other guy just hit with a big stick."

"A _bat_."

"What?"

"It's a _bat_. It's not a _stick_. It's a _bat_."

Her father was laughing so hard he was wheezing, and Bella thought she might've heard Billy laughing too. She couldn't help but laugh, too. Her father was teasing her. Sometimes, it seemed like they couldn't think of anything to say to each other, but now he was teasing her. When she was little, Bella remembered, her father would pick her up and swing her around. And tickle her... She remember now how he used to tickle her when she was little, till she could barely breath and begged him to stop, only to beg him to do it again as soon as she caught her breath. Once she started to grow up though, it seemed like they couldn't relate to each other. Teasing was good. Teasing was definitely good.

"Yes, thank you. I realize that. What I still don't know, is what is a backwards 'K'."

"A 'K' is a strike out. If the 'K' is written backwards, it means the third strike is a called strike."

"That's when it's over the plate thing, right?"

"The... _plate_... _thing_?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, a called strike is when the ball is over _the plate thing."_ Through her father's laughter, the way he said those last three words almost sounded as if it was painful to him, and it sounded muffled, like he was talking into his hand. "Why the sudden interest in baseball?"

_ I may just have a little crush on a baseball player._ "Oh, um, no reason. Gotta go, Dad. Good night."

"Yeah, uh huh, 'cuz I was just born yesterday, you know. Good night, Bells."

Walking back over to their desk after hanging up, Bella felt much better after laughing with her dad. She laid her head down on the leather and sat quietly for a moment, thinking about the two most important men in her life, before picking her head up and looking at her phone for the time. _If there's nothing there yet, I can take a shower and read for a while and then look again. _This time, Edward's letter was there waiting for her, and as she read she went from feeling like her heart would burst to feeling like it would break and back again

_July 13, 1918_

_My Dear Bella,_

_If there is one thing I have learned as the result of my father's sudden death, it is that not one single day, not one single moment can be taken for granted. We waste entirely too much time trying to impress and appease those who do not truly matter, while neglecting those who do. My dearest Bella, my dearest friend, please allow me to tell you how very much I value and treasure our friendship. In these past weeks, you have come to mean more to me than I can begin to explain. I do not know by what miracle our friendship has been made possible, but I will never cease to thank Heaven for it, and for you._

_My mother and I were volunteering at the hospital Friday morning and were just about to leave when my father's secretary telephoned to say that he had taken ill and was being driven home. Our family doctor came to the house and diagnosed him with a very bad case of influenza. Although he felt my father would certainly recover in a few days' time, he wanted him taken to the hospital in an effort to prevent pneumonia. Everything possible was done, but the pneumonia developed rapidly, and nothing the doctors tried helped. A doctor friend of ours said my father's was the most vicious case he had ever seen, and he stayed with us during the night as much as possible. _

_I cannot help but feel I should have noticed something that morning at breakfast. There had to have been some symptom, some indication that something was wrong, something that I missed. Perhaps if I had noticed, help could have been gotten sooner. _

_I am trying to take some comfort in the fact that, mercifully, he did not suffer long, and that, at least in that respect, the doctors were not powerless. It was unlike anything I have ever seen before or ever wish to see again. He suffered such coughing fits; I believe I will hear that sound in my nightmares so long as I live. His fever rose higher and more swiftly than I would have believed possible, and he had unusual brown bruise-like patches on his cheeks. He was given Morphine and passed most of his illness in a deep sleep as a result. _

_Nowadays modern medicine is making such strides, such wondrous advances and discoveries are being made, it is still difficult to accept that there was nothing that could be done. But I know there was nothing that could be done. He was a perfectly healthy, strong man on Friday morning, and in less than 24 hours he was gone. _

_I am sorry to burden you with such terrible detail, dearest Bella. Please forgive me for my thoughtlessness. I am still trying to wrap my head around what has happened. These past days have been the worst of my life, and the coming days will not be much better. Please know that your friendship, and thinking of you and the poem you sent, has been the greatest comfort to me._

_Last year, the mother of two close friends of mine died not long after suffering a stroke. Shortly afterward, my father called me into his study and went over all of his important papers with me. He said that whenever anything of that kind happened to him, he wanted to be assured I would know what needed to be done. I do not believe I was ever more uncomfortable in my life, but now I am exceedingly grateful for his foresight. In addition to bank records and insurance papers, he showed me his will. _

_My father had two brothers, Richard and Michael, who live in Philadelphia and New York City. My uncles will arrive here with their families early Monday afternoon. _

_My father and his older brother, my Uncle Richard, have never been close. For as long as I can remember, they have always had a very strained relationship at best. I understand there was a period when they did not speak for a number of years after a particularly bad disagreement, but I do not know what they argued over. Despite this, he assumes that, as the oldest brother, he is the executor of my father's will. Uncle Richard is very domineering, to put it politely. To put it more honestly, he is a boorish, selfish, bossy, snob, and his wife and son are no better. I hope you will not think too poorly of me for speaking so, but I assure you it is true. Uncle Richard's first words after learning of his brother's death were little more than orders for the arrangements to be made according to his wishes without so much as a passing thought to what my father may have wanted. He expressed no remorse or sympathy of any kind. I was very insulted on my father's behalf initially, but now I cannot help but feel that his false sympathy would have been infinitely worse. If I have not already shocked you with my unkind words regarding my own kin, I hope you will forgive me once again for admitting that I almost look forward to seeing the expression on his face when he learns that my Uncle Michael and I are my father's executors. He will not be pleased, to say the very least. _

_The poem you sent me reminds me strongly of what he said to me that day. He said that when his time came, he would be beyond anything that anyone on this Earth could do for him, and for no one to waste their time sitting up with an empty shell of a body. He said the greatest thing I could do for him would be to take care of my mother. _

_Bella, I am trying to do that, but I do not know how. My mother took a tablet to help her sleep once we returned home and fortunately did not rise until very late in the morning. While she slept, I telephoned my uncles and some close friends. Once she was awake, a tray of food was sent up to her, and I sat with her while she ate and stayed with her until she felt ready to come downstairs. Fortunately, my mother's brothers and sisters do not live far, and we have many good friends. By early evening we had received several visitors offering their sympathy and assistance, so many so that our parlor resembles a florist shop and our ice box could not possibly hold one more thing. Her sisters stayed with her most of the day. My other aunt, my mother's sister-in-law, stayed only a short while before leaving to purchase mourning clothes for her. My mother is the strongest person I know, but I am very worried about her. I do not know what to do. I spent most of the day watching her, and her movements all seemed forced, and her normally sparkling, green eyes are dull and lifeless. When she spoke, her voice did not sound like her at all. It sounded hollow, that is the only word I can think to describe it. When she looks at you, it is as if she is looking through you, as if she does not see you at all. I have never known any two people as well matched as my parents. They were deeply in love, truly two halves of one whole. I am very worried for her. As strong as she is, I fear this pain may be more than she can bear. I only wish I knew how to help her._

_Finding your letter early this morning was a great relief. I missed you terribly, and I found your letter exactly when I needed you most. I was growing very worried that something had happened to you. I do not like the idea of two ladies living alone in such a large city. Please, promise me you will be careful. I do understand and appreciate your concern about, what were your words? "screw up" my life. I have often thought these past few weeks of how very odd it is to write to someone who has not yet been born, but I never considered what it must be like for you, to write to someone who is, by your time, already dead. I must say, it is an unsettling thought._

_The Time Machine was quite a short story, really, so I am not surprised they would add to it to turn it into a feature movie. The plot they added sounds very interesting, and I would imagine Wells would be pleased his great-grandson had a hand in it. May I ask, though, what you meant when you said you "got" the movie? How can you "get" a movie? _

_I have wondered who it was who gave you our desk. It seems inconceivable that you have actually met my grandson. I am very happy my cousin's name continues in the family. I do not know if it is proper to ask, but I must. What is he like? Is he happy? Does he have a family of his own? Does he have brothers or sisters? Aunts or uncles? Is he a friend of your family's? How did you meet him? Why did he give you our desk? Did you meet my son as well?_

_Yes, we were really going to sail on the Titanic. My mother never did persuade my father against it. Why did you assume she had?_

_To answer your question, a "K" is a strike out. It is taken from the word "struck", as K is the last letter. I do not know why it would be written backwards, though. We do not do that. It must come about later. I will make strike outs today's lesson. When a pitcher pitches the ball, it is always either a strike or a ball. If a batter gets three strikes, he is out. For a pitch to be a strike either, 1. The batter must swing and miss, 2. Swing and hit a foul ball, or 3. Not swing at a ball that is both over the plate and between his knees and the letters on his jersey, what is called "the strike zone". That is a "called strike" as opposed to a "swinging strike". The plate is home plate. It has five sides and looks basically like a square with a triangle attached on one side. I suppose it is called home plate, because it looks something like a house, although I never thought about that. There are white lines down the sides of the field leading from home plate, past first base on the right and third base on the left, all the way to the wall. A foul ball is when the batted ball lands outside those lines. If it lands inside the lines, it is in play. There are some exceptions to these rules. A foul ball is only a strike for the first or second strike, not the third, unless the batter is bunting instead of swinging. In this case, the strike only counts for the pitchers statistics, not for the out. Additionally, the catcher must catch the ball. If for some reason he cannot, the batter can run for first base. If he is either tagged or thrown out, he is out. If he reaches base safely he is safe. The strike out counts for both the pitcher's and batter's statistics but not for the out. Of course, these are the rules today, 91 years is a long time, there is always a chance that they are changed at some point. Your backwards K, for example. If a pitch is not swung at and is either wide or inside, meaning not over home plate, or too high or too low, it is called a ball. If a batter gets four balls, it is called a "walk" and he is awarded first base._

_I am indescribably happy that you were thinking about me when you suggested reading Shakespeare's Sonnet at your mother's wedding. It is a beautiful verse, and I confess where it once made me think of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth, it now makes me think only of you._

_Once again, I cannot tell you how reading your words has helped me. Your letter was like a life preserver to a drowning man. A little piece of normal in a world turned upside down. Please, write to me again soon. Please tell me what is happening in your life. Tell me something happy. I need to remember that there is happiness in the world. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

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Well? What did you think? Drop me a review and let me know.

For those who don't know what March Madness is, it is a single-elimination college basketball championship tournament held in the United States every spring. It's a pretty big thing. People fill out brackets with who they think is going to beat who and who is going with win it all.

Remember, at this point neither Edward nor Bella have any idea there is an epidemic just around the corner. They have no reason not to believe Edward has a long (human) life in front of him.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth, 4mejasper, and SecretlySeverus!

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This is one of my favorite chapters. It is almost entirely from Edward's point of view, and I think it demonstrates the similarities between the human and the vampire. Edward had a temper and was entirely too hard on himself as a human, too. I had _"the incident"_ scene mostly outlined in my head, and I knew how I wanted the chapter end, and this chapter really practically wrote itself around those two things in one afternoon. I tried to inject a little humor to break the angst up a bit, so I hope this time I will make you laugh once or twice. But don't let _"the incident"_ distract you. This one of the most important chapters because of what happens at the end of it. The rest of the story couldn't happen without it.

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This chapter is also important because Bella's quoting Rose from Titanic will come up again in a very key scene much later.

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Instead of being asked questions, this time I'm asking you all a question. Edward and his family were to have sailed on the Titanic. His mother was dead set against it and tried everything she could to convince Edward, Sr. to change their plans, but never did get him to agree. So then... _**why didn't they?**_ Bella can't understand why they didn't sail on Titanic if that was what they planned and Elizabeth never persuaded Edward, Sr. to change those plans, and Edward can't understand why she doesn't understand. Can you figure it out?

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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The song Bella sends Edward is, of course, "My Heart Will Go On" from Celine Dion.

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_ Who the hell does his uncle think he is!? _Bella was pacing angrily back and forth across her room, absolutely furious at Edward's uncle for making this already difficult time even harder for him. _You tell him, Edward. _The more times she read his words, the more proud she was of him for standing up to the man.

But, he shouldn't have had to.

As angry as reading about his uncle made her, and as much as her heart broke for him and his mother when she read about the horrible way his father died, other things he wrote made Bella feel like she could dance on air. Before starting to write to Edward, she had never cried and laughed at the same time. No one had ever made her feel so much at one time before.

She hadn't even known she _could_ feel so many different things at one time.

Sitting on her bed, leaning back against the headboard, eyes closed, Bella held Edward's letter against her heart with a small, sad smile on her face. Even though they could never truly be a part of each other's worlds, he was more real to her, more alive to her, than anyone else she'd ever known. Just holding the same pages he held less than an hour ago, running her fingers over the words he wrote to her nearly 91 years ago, she felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Whether he had really written to her less than an hour ago or nearly 91 years ago, it didn't matter. He was part of her. He was a part of her she hadn't even known was missing but was so essential, so vital, that even time couldn't keep him from finding her.

Bella felt like she was holding his very soul in her hands instead of just his letter.

Standing up and walking over to the window, Bella looked out and smiled up at the starry sky before leaning back against the wall and reading his letter again and again, already beginning her letter back to him in her head.

XOXOXO

_Dear Edward,_

_Tell your uncle to stick a sock in it. Seriously, Edward, don't let him push you around. He has absolutely no right to tell you what to do. _

_Please, don't blame yourself for what happened. I'm sure there was nothing you could have done. If there were any signs to be noticed, I'm sure you would have. You need to remember what your father told you, take care of your mother. I cannot even imagine how horrible this must be for both of you. _

_I do have some happy news for you. Your White Sox won yesterday. They beat the Dodgers 9 - 4. It's only spring training, but still, a win is a win, right? Actually, they only play about nine or ten miles away, in Glendale, for their spring training. They share the field with the Dodgers. Also, they won their division last year, and they swept the Houston Astros and won the World Series four years ago. I Googled that part. _

_I'm afraid there really isn't much to tell about my life. I really don't do very much. I have to go with my mother this weekend to find a dress for her wedding in November. I am not looking forward to it. The dress shopping, I mean, not the wedding. My mother and I have very different ideas on what I should wear. She wants something long, I just want something I'm not going to trip over. _

_I spoke to my father a little while ago and asked him about the backwards K. It means the third strike was a called strike. I'm going to go visit him in Washington for Easter. _

_I'm sorry I don't know anything about your grandson, Michael, but I do remember he said he has a brother and sister, and he did seem happy. They were selling some things they no longer wanted before going back to Chicago. The desk was not for sale. We talked for a while, and he said that although the desk wasn't for sale, he wanted to give it to me. He said it came into the family as a gift and it seemed fitting for it to leave the family as a gift. It was much too much to give to someone he'd only just met, and my mother and I tried to refuse, but he wouldn't let us. He said the strangest thing. He said the desk had always belonged to me, that they were just holding on to it until I could come for it. He told me about the hidden compartment, but he didn't tell me where it was. It took hours, and I went half-crazy looking for it, but I found it. Obviously. I couldn't believe it when I found your letter to your cousin. I thought someone had put it there for some reason and forgotten about it. I knew I should try to find your grandson and give it back to him, but I couldn't imagine giving it up. _

_When I said I got _The Time Traveler_ movie, I meant just that. It's sit down time again, Edward. My world really is very, very different from yours. I told you about computers already. We also have things called televisions. The easiest way to describe them is that they are boxes that show pictures. Like a movie screen in a box in your living room. Similar to how telephones let you talk to people far away, televisions let you watch movies and shows. _

_We can buy or rent copies of movies to watch at home on a television. They've made several movies about the Titanic. The most recent one is one of my favorite movies. I must have seen it dozens of times. It was made about 10 years ago. The song I'm sending you is from the movie. It's a love story between two fictional characters who come from very different backgrounds and meet on board. The girl is from an old, rich family, but the money is gone now, and she is engaged to an absolutely horrible man, who she does not want to marry but has to or she and her mother will lose what little they have left and be left with nothing. The boy is poor and wins his 3rd class ticket in a poker match minutes before the ship sails. The girl, Rose, becomes so distraught she attempts to kill herself by jumping overboard, but he sees her in time and stops her, telling her, "You jump, I jump." _

_It's a long story, but basically they sneak around to see each other and fall in love. She tells him she will leave with him when the ship arrives in New York, but of course, the ship never arrives in New York. She has the chance to leave the ship on a lifeboat, but refuses to leave without him. She is actually on a life boat with her mother and jumps back to the ship. He is standing at the rail next to her fiancé on the deck above and sees her jump back on board. He runs down and finds her, and she tells him the same thing he told her earlier, "You jump, I jump." _

_They both go down with the ship but survive the initial sinking. They find each other again among the hundreds in the water and find a floating piece of wood paneling. They can't both get on it, so Jack puts Rose on it, and he stays in the water, holding onto her hands. He tells her she is not going to die like this, that she is going to die an old woman, warm in her bed. _

_By the time the life boat comes back to look for survivors, he's already dead from hypothermia, but she's still alive because she was out of the water. She is rescued and survives. Her fiancé survived the sinking and looks for her on the Carpathia, but she hides her face from him as he walks past her. When she is asked her name on the Carpathia, she takes Jack's name as her own, and her mother and fiancé are left believing she died. _

_She goes on to have an amazing life, marries, and has a family and grandchildren. She lives to be 102 and dies exactly as Jack said she would, an old woman, warm in her bed, and is then shown young and beautiful again, reunited with Jack and surrounded by everyone else who died that night. _

_I still can't believe you were supposed to have sailed on the Titanic. If your mother didn't get your father to change his mind, why didn't you? Whatever it was that stopped you, it was a miracle._

_I feel so completely helpless. I'm so sorry about your father, and I'm glad you said my poem helped, but it's not enough. I wish more than anything that I could be there with you, to just hold your hand. And don't ever think anything you could ever say could be a burden to me. You're my friend. You could never be a burden, don't even think it. I wish I could tell you just how much you mean to me, but I don't have your way with words. Just please know that having this chance to know you, to be your friend, is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. _

_Your Friend,_

_Bella_

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_ What in heaven's name does "Googled" mean? What an odd word. And what does tell my uncle "to stick a sock in it" mean?_

Edward sat in the parlor reading Bella's letter for what he thought might be the fiftieth time since yesterday morning. He needed the strength he drew from her to help him endure his Uncle Richard's arrival. His uncles and their families would be arriving at the station in a little over an hour, and squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward groaned at the thought of his Uncle Richard's arrival.

Currently, he was waiting for his Uncle George and Uncle Charles, his mother's brothers, to arrive. Despite their dislike of his Uncle Richard–or perhaps, he suspected, owing to it–Uncle George and Uncle Charles had insisted upon accompanying him to the station to meet the train. There were eight people between the two arriving families, and they would need their three cars to accommodate them all, plus their luggage and Mic's wheelchair. Edward had suggested hiring two taxis to meet him at the train station, but his uncles would not hear of it.

Both families would be staying at the house. Uncle Richard had taken it as a matter of course that they–they meaning _his _family–would stay at the house and had been incredulous at the mere mention of a hotel. Edward rolled his eyes. _Uncle Richard takes a lot of things as a matter of course. _

Uncle Michael had offered to do whichever would be the most convenient or the most helpful, and in the end, it was decided they would stay as well. Edward was grateful to them as he knew that with Mic's disability, a hotel, with elevators and a suite of rooms all on one floor, would certainly be more convenient for them. He would admit it to no one other than Bella, but he honestly did not know if he could stand having Uncle Richard, Aunt Josephine, and Timothy without them.

There was plenty of room in the house, but eight guests would obviously mean considerably more work for Maggie and Nellie. Accordingly, additional help had been arranged for during the day, and Nellie's youngest sister, Catherine, who was nearly of an age to enter service herself, would stay and share her sister's room for the duration of their visit.

Edward looked back down at the letter in his hands and smiled at what Bella had written. _For someone who says she doesn't have a way with words, what she writes can make the world seem to stop spinning._ The first time he'd read what she had said about him, that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, he'd thought his heart might just beat it's way right out of his chest and his face might split in two, his smile was so wide.

Just as Edward was reading once again about the Sox winning the World Series again last year–or ninety years from now, whichever–his uncles arrived. He stood up to great them and tucked her letter into his inside jacket pocket. _You are coming with me, Bella. I cannot do this without you._ He shook his uncles' hands and thanked them for coming.

Aunt Sarah, his mother's sister, had come with them to stay with his mother while they were gone, and together she and Edward went up to his mother's room, where his mother had spent most of her time since his father's death. He knocked softly on her door and with her hollow, quiet voice, he almost missed her telling them to come in. Elizabeth was sitting in her chair looking out the window at the late morning sun, her uneaten breakfast still on the small table in front of her. She did not turn her head when they entered the room. Although expected by now, it was still a shock to see his proud, strong mother so utterly broken. If Edward had thought she'd aged twenty years the night they lost his father, she'd aged another ten in the days since.

Kneeling next to her, Edward took her hand. "Mother, Aunt Sarah is here. Uncle George and Uncle Charles are downstairs. We are leaving for the station soon. Won't you come down and greet them?"

Elizabeth slowly turned her head toward her son but did not meet his eyes. "Sarah?"

Her sister rushed forward and took her other hand. "I'm here, Lizzie, dearest. I'm here."

Edward was encouraged to feel a slight squeeze from his mother's hand as she turned away to look back out the window. It was just a slight pressure, but it was a response, a sign, hopefully, that his mother was returning to him.

As he looked at his aunt, who was watching her sister with tears shining in her eyes, she glanced at him and nodded her head slightly, the tears spilling over. She had felt it, too.

His mother spoke in the same hollow, detached voice he had come to expect these past few days. "It is a lovely morning. The sun is out. Edward did love sunny days. Good day for a ballgame, he would have said, would he not have?"

Nearly overcome with emotion, Edward was not immediately able to answer her. That was more than his mother had said at one time since before this nightmare began. And she had said his father's name, something she had not done since they left the hospital. "Yes, Mother. That is exactly what he would have said, and the Sox won on Saturday. He would be happy. They shut out Boston, five, nothing."

His mother drew a deep, shaky breath. "It has been… such a… dreary, gray summer. I do so dislike the color gray, so cold and drab. Today is lovely, though. The sky is a beautiful, bright blue, and the birds have been singing to me all morning long."

Edward was reminded once again of the poem Bella sent him. _"I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing."_ He leaned in and kissed his mother's cheek. "Mother, I must go. The train will arrive soon."

Pleased to feel her lean toward him slightly, Edward gently wrapped his arm around her. She turned away from the window again and spoke to him, "Of course, dearest. Do remember to thank your uncles." He stood and walked to the door, but paused as his mother spoke again. She met his eyes this time. Her shoulders were a bit straighter, her voice just a bit stronger. "And Edward, do not let Richard upset you. He thinks entirely too highly of himself and poorly of everyone else. He always has done. Do not allow him to talk down to you or intimidate you. You are your father's son, and it was you he entrusted to see to everything, not Richard. Do not forget that."

In response to his mother's words, Edward felt himself stand a little straighter, a little taller, prouder, and promised both his mother and himself that he would not forget.

As he left the room, Edward could hear his aunt speaking to his mother. "Lizzie, dearest, let's get you downstairs. Why do we not sit on the back porch and listen to the birds there?" Knowing that his mother was in good hands, and that Bella was with him if only through her letter, Edward felt equal to dealing with his Uncle Richard.

Half an hour later, Edward was seated on the platform between his uncles as he heard the train whistle in the distance. His mother's words were ringing like bells in his head, and with the feel of Bella's letter against his chest over his heart, he rose to greet his uncles and their families.

Unsurprisingly, Uncle Richard was the first one to descend, followed closely by Aunt Josephine and Timothy. Edward stepped forward and shook his uncle's hand. "Uncle Richard, Aunt Josephine, Timothy. How was your journey?" His aunt and cousin did not answer at all, and his uncle–clearly in a foul temper already–barely grumbled an answer, but Edward was certain he heard the words "intolerable… no consideration… great inconvenience."

Edward gritted his teeth together and turned away from his Uncle Richard; relief engulfed him as he saw his Aunt Louise being helped from the train by his Uncle Charles. As soon as she set foot on the platform, she embraced him warmly. "Oh, Edward. Darling, I am so terribly, terribly sorry. Your poor father, such a tragic loss. How is your poor mother?"

Aunt Louise and his mother had always gotten on exceedingly well. They were as close as true sisters, and he knew they had missed each other terribly in the years since his uncle's job took them to New York City. When Mic's illness struck two years ago, his mother had dropped everything and gone straight to New York, marching straight past quarantine placards and posters plastered on nearly every vertical surface.

"I believe she may be somewhat better today. She did not touch her breakfast, but she spoke more."

"Oh, that is good news indeed, but we must see that she eats properly. Still, one thing at a time."

A voice Edward would know anywhere sounded behind him, a drawling voice with an exaggerated New York accent and a playful, mock-teasing quality that could only belong to one person. "Yes, yes. It is very good news, and we are glad to hear it. Now will you kindly move your scrawny self, Eddie? You are blocking the way." A weight of a hundred pounds suddenly lifted from Edward's shoulders at the sound of his cousin's voice. After assisting his wife down the stairs to the platform, Uncle Michael had returned to the train car and was standing on the bottom step with his back to him, holding the front of Mic's wheelchair. His younger cousins, Tommy and Laura, were behind him, with Tommy holding the back of his brother's chair and helping his father carefully guide his brother down the narrow stairs. Although Tommy was only thirteen, he was tall like Edward but with a heavier, broader build.

"Mic, I am so glad to see you."

"Yes, yes, I know. I am beautiful. However, you _are still in the way_."

Edward shook his head and was unable to stop himself from smiling in gratitude at his cousin as he stepped back, out of the way. Until that moment, he hadn't realized just how very much he was looking forward to seeing him.

Along with his mother's family, his friends had all been to the house with their parents, but they treated him as if he was suddenly made of glass, as if afraid he would shatter into a million pieces if they dared to speak too loudly. Mic, Edward knew, could be counted on to treat him normally. Mic was simply so thankful to have survived the polio epidemic that took the use of his legs when so many others did not, that no matter what else bad happened it was impossible to fully dampen his spirit for very long.

Aunt Louise shook her head indulgently at them, "Now, boys, behave yourselves."

Once Tommy stepped off the train, Edward took Laura's hand and helped her down. "Laura, you look as lovely as ever. I do hope those two have not been bothering you."

"Those two? They wouldn't dare." She arched her eye brow at him, giving him a mischievous smile that looked totally out of place on her angelic face, and leaned closer, whispering so only he could hear her. "I learned from the master." Once she stepped onto the platform, she took both of his hands in hers. "How are you, Edward? Oh, what you must have been through! I am so very sorry."

Squeezing her hands softly, he answered, "I am better now that you all are here," and leaning down to kiss her cheek, he whispered back to her, "The salt in the sugar dish at the Stinson's tea, that was you then?"

Laura did not answer him, merely gave him her most innocent smile and arched her eyebrow again. Edward smiled down at the partner in crime he never knew he had and offered her his arm as they walked over to join the others.

Porters were by now bringing their luggage over on trolleys, and his Uncle Richard said to him irritably, "As Edward has finally seen fit to join us, we must be off."

Uncle George and Uncle Charles led everyone to the cars. Uncle Richard walked a considerable distance away from them, as if he did not wish to be known to be in their company, with Aunt Josephine on his arm. Uncle Michael and Aunt Louise walked between them with Tommy pushing his brother's chair, and Timothy skulked miserably several steps behind his parents.

Edward leaned down to Laura and whispered again, nodding his head toward Timothy. "What did you do to him?"

She whispered back innocently, "Who? Me? I did nothing. He's been like that since they boarded the train." Before continuing, Laura looked around to make sure there was enough distance between themselves and the others. "Mic is very disappointed. He wanted to run over his toes, but Timothy rarely ever rose from his seat. I believe there was some… ahem, _trouble_… at the bank."

Edward patted her hand and bowed his head to hide his smile. _I can almost feel sorry for him. Not entirely trustworthy, not particularly bright, and large amounts of money. Those things cannot mix well. _"Shall I have Maggie lock up the silver, do you think?"

"Best to be safe."

Once the party arrived at the cars, Uncle Richard directed the porters to load the luggage in Edward's Uncle Charles' car, and as he walked passed them, Edward distinctly caught the grumbled words "Drives a _Model T_, I see." and felt himself bristle at the implied insult to his uncle. Laura squeezed his arm, and he forced himself to relax.

Uncle Richard continued to direct everyone as if they were his employees at the bank. "Thomas will have to ride with the luggage. Edward, give me the keys. We cannot dally about all day."

Edward felt Laura's grip tighten further on his arm at their uncle's intended slight to him, but he remembered his mother's words and Bella's letter in his pocket and patted her hand again in silent thanks for the support, and stepping up to his father's car, he opened both passenger side doors before walking around confidently to get behind the wheel himself. "Let us be off, then." Edward's hands gripped the wheel tightly, possessively. This car had been his father's pride and joy, and he'd be damned before he let Uncle Richard drive it.

His uncle continued to grumble to himself as he got into the car, and this time Edward caught the word 'impertinence'. He had to bite his tongue to stop the laugh that wanted to escape as he thought to himself, _If you do not allow yourself to be insulted by him, he is really quite amusing. _

Aunt Sarah had succeeded in getting her sister downstairs, and as soon as they pulled up to the house his mother rushed out to greet Michael and Louise, thanking them tearfully for coming, before turning to Richard and Josephine and thanking them as well.

Uncle Richard and Aunt Josephine did not seem pleased to be noticed second, but Edward really could not have cared less.

Once he and Tommy had helped Mic back into his chair and into the house, they helped his Uncle George and Uncle Charles with the rest of the bags while Timothy stood around looking very put out and not speaking to anyone.

Lunch was soon served, but Uncle George and Uncle Charles did not stay, and after making both him and his mother promise to call for them at once if they were at all needed, they took their leave. Edward suspected they had already had quite enough of his Uncle Richard, and he was secretly envious they were able to escape him.

All around the table, people took their seats, with Uncle Richard taking his late brother's seat at the head of the table with a childishly spiteful glare in Edward's direction as he pushed his mother's chair in.

Edward found that seeing his uncle sitting so smugly in his father's seat had not only made him lose his appetite completely, but he was finding it was an effort to keep his breakfast down.

With his mother situated in her seat at the other end of the table, Uncle Michael, Aunt Louise, and Aunt Sarah took the seats closest to her. At the other end of the table, Edward sat at his uncle's side across from Aunt Josephine. Laura sat next to him, and Tommy pushed Mic's chair up to the table between their sister and mother before taking his seat across from his mother.

Lunch was served and eaten quietly.

After only a short period of time, Uncle Richard seemed to have decided that everyone was finished eating–whether the others had decided they were done did not appear to matter–and he pushed his plate away, rose, cleared his throat, and spoke as if he was addressing a board meeting. "I wish to review Edward's papers now, before my meeting with his attorney. Michael, you will join me."

Across the length of their dining table, Edward met his mother's eyes, and at the slight nod of her head, he calmly swallowed his food and set down his fork before wiping his mouth with his napkin and addressing his uncle. "Uncle Richard, I believe I made myself perfectly clear on the telephone. Was there a point you did not understand?"

His uncle looked down at him and spoke to him as if he was a small, disobedient child and not a nearly grown man. "Do not be obstinate, Edward."

Edward felt himself growing angry, but thoughts of Bella's letter in his pocket helped him to control himself. "I am not being obstinate, Uncle Richard. I am merely reminding you that my father chose me to handle his affairs. _My_ meeting with my father's attorney is in two hours. You are more than welcome to join me, but make no mistake, it _is my_ meeting, and you are there only at my invitation and only to observe."

The room was deadly quiet except for the sounds of his mother eating her lunch at the far end of the table. If Edward had felt any nervousness at standing up to his uncle, his sudden realization that _his mother was eating_ erased them entirely.

His Uncle Richard was looking down at him still, but in a different way. He was clearly sizing him up. "Do not be a fool, Edward. You are a child. You cannot possibly expect to be allowed to handle your father's estate."

Bella's words began echoing through his mind. So sure was Edward that he could actually hear her words softly whispered in his ear–as if Bella herself was standing beside him, a physical, solid presence in the room that only he was aware of–that he swore to himself he could not only hear her words but feel her gentle, warm breath drift across his skin, and goosebumps covered his arms. _"Don't let him push you around. He has absolutely no right to tell you what to do."_ Edward could almost feel her hand slide into his, her fingers twisting with his, so strong was the feeling that she was there with him.

Overcome by the strength of the sensation, Edward looked back down the table briefly before speaking again, both in order to give himself a moment to choose his words and to catch his breath. His mother was continuing to eat, and he noted the lines around her eyes appeared less pronounced. But it was his Uncle Michael's eyes he met and his head that nodded to him this time.

"I am well aware of my age, Uncle Richard, as was my father. He planned for the possibility of my still being underage when he passed by naming Uncle Michael as my co-executor if that was the case."

Fuming, Uncle Richard glared between his nephew and brother. A vein had begun to pulse in his temple, and his eyes were bulging. So angry was he that he was barely able to speak and only managed to sputter at his brother. "_You_… You were aware of this?"

Uncle Michael replied, "Yes, I was. Edward telephoned last year and requested I assist my nephew in any way I could, if it became necessary. Of course, I agreed. He made it perfectly clear that, as his heir, Edward was to be in charge, but if that was not possible due to his age, he wished for me to act on my nephew's behalf in any way necessary."

Uncle Richard picked his napkin up, wiped his forehead, and threw it back on the table. "And why, may I ask, was I not informed of this... this arrangement?"

Calmly looking his brother straight in the eye, Uncle Michael responded, "Because, Richard, it was none of your business."

Edward thought that if it was possible for a man's head to explode off of his body, his Uncle Richard's just might.

"None of my business!? May I remind you, I am the eldest brother, and as such, I am the head of this family."

Immediately and angrily, Uncle Michael and Edward both rose to their feet.

"You are the head of your own family only, Richard, not mine, and it seems you cannot even manage that properly."

"You are no such thing, Uncle Richard. Not in my father's house, and not in _my _house."

Around the table, seven people sat as still as statues, only their heads moving, looking between the brothers and nephew as if at some strange three way tennis match, while Elizabeth sat quietly eating her lunch as if nothing was happening.

Uncle Richard seemed to finally notice his sister-in-law was ignoring the proceedings entirely and spoke angrily to her, "Woman, will you put that fork down and curb your son!"

That was Richard's first Very Big Mistake.

Edward leaned over the table toward his uncle and spoke in a voice so low and menacing he did not recognize it as his own. "Do not EVER speak to my mother in such a manner."

Richard seemed to realize at once both how very tall his nephew was and how very angry he was and quickly stammered an insincere apology to Elizabeth before looking condescendingly, disbelievingly between his nephew and brother and speaking again. "Am I to understand that my brother chose _a child _and _a tradesman _over _a bank vice-president_ to handle his estate? Can someone please explain to me why any man in his right mind would make such a foolish choice?"

Elizabeth had not been ignoring the argument at her table. Nothing of the sort. She'd been listening intently, but her son was the man of the house now and was perfectly capable of fighting his own battles. In fact, she was very proud of how well he was handling himself. Her husband, on the other hand, was no longer able to defend himself, and at the insult to him she spoke up for the first time, her voice neither weak nor hollow. "You may have reasons, perhaps very valid reasons, for not entrusting your estate to your son, Richard, but I assure you, my Edward had no such concerns."

Josephine turned angrily to her sister-in-law. "How dare you!"

Elizabeth met the other woman's furious gaze with her own steady, confident one. "Do you deny it, Josephine?"

Edward wondered where he had been the past few weeks; it seemed to him that everyone in the family was aware of whatever difficulty at the bank Laura had eluded to except him. Pushing the thought away, he looked proudly at his mother._ The fight is back in her._

Uncle Richard brought his hand down hard on the table. "I am not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner!"

As he turned to his uncle, Edward saw for the first time how truly small, in a way that had nothing to do with physical size, the over-inflated man really was. The man resembled nothing so much as a spoiled child denied a cookie before dinner. "That is a great pity, Uncle Richard. You may have become a much better man had you been put in your place earlier."

Turning purple, his uncle glared at him for a moment before turning back to his mother. "Elizabeth, are you going to sit there and allow your son to speak to me like that? Have you taught the boy no manners? Have you taught him no respect for his elders!?"

Elizabeth spoke with the quiet calm and confidence of someone who knows absolutely that they are wholly in the right. "Edward has been taught to show respect to those deserving of it, whether they be older or younger than himself."

Richard was so angry at being insulted, first by being overlooked completely by his brother and now by both a child and a woman, that he was nearly insensible with rage and unable to form a coherent sentence. He could only manage to string together a few words at a time. "unheard of… in all my life… insupportable… ingratitude… will not stand for it…"

Suddenly tired and having had more than enough and thoroughly disgusted with his uncle, Edward sat back down, unwilling to argue the matter any longer and completely uncaring whether his uncle and his family stayed or left.

"Oh, Uncle Richard, stick a sock in it."

A sudden odd noise–something between a chirp, a squeak, and a cough–startled him, and Edward looked up. He saw Laura, Mic, and Tommy all looking down at the table, all with their napkins covering the lower half of their face, and all with the unmistakable eyes of someone trying desperately not to laugh.

Richard continued to mutter angrily to himself, and Edward jumped back to his feet so forcefully his chair was knocked over backwards. He was more angry than he had ever been in his life. So livid was he that he was sure in that moment he could spit pure venom. "What did you say?" It surprised Edward how controlled his voice sounded compared to how little control he felt over it.

His uncle seemed to not have realized he'd spoke the words out loud and appeared to melt on the spot under his nephew's furious glare.

"I asked you a question. What did you say?"

Edward could heard his mother, his aunts, and his cousins speaking to him and urging him to calm down, but their words did not fully register through the blind fury in his head. He could feel himself shaking, and his hands were fisted were so tightly he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. "I will ask you one last time. What did you say?"

It was not until he felt his Uncle Michael's hand on his shoulder forcing him to sit down–his Uncle Michael, who was so very like his father–that Edward began to be able to think clearly through the indescribable anger clouding his mind. Once his mind cleared enough to think rationally, his strength deserted him, and he felt nothing but shame for allowing the insignificant man's words to affect him so and putting on such an exhibition. .

Edward looked up in exhaustion at his Uncle Richard, who was as white as a sheet and frozen in place. "Gather your things and get out of my house. Call for a taxi. I do not care where you go, but I do not want to see you at my father's service. I do not want to see you, ever. We are no longer family." He stood on shaky legs, unsure they would not give out on him, but before walking out of the room and upstairs to his bedroom, Edward apologized to the others. "Mother, Uncle Michael, Aunt Louise, Aunt Sarah, Mic, Laura, Tommy, please, forgive me."

Climbing the stairs to his room as quickly as his legs would let him, Edward went straight to his room, and once inside he locked the door. At his desk, he pulled out paper to write to Bella, but his hands were shaking so badly it wasn't possible to write. He took her letter out of his pocket to read the song she sent him to try to calm himself, but his eyes were so full of angry tears it was difficult to see. It was several minutes before he could see clearly enough to read.

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_Every night in my dreams  
>I see you, I feel you<br>That is how I know you go on.  
>Far across the distance<br>And spaces between us  
>You have come to show you go on.<em>

_Near, far, wherever you are  
>I believe that the heart does go on.<br>Once more you open the door  
>And you're here in my heart<br>And my heart will go on and on._

_Love can touch us one time  
>And last for a lifetime<br>And never let go till we're gone.  
>Love was when I loved you<br>One true time I hold to  
>In my life we'll always go on.<em>

_Near, far, wherever you are  
>I believe that the heart does go on.<br>Once more you open the door  
>And you're here in my heart<br>And my heart will go on and on._

_You're here, there's nothing I fear  
>And I know that my heart will go on.<br>We'll stay forever this way  
>You are safe in my heart<br>And my heart will go on and on._

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In her letter, Bella had told him she wished she could be there with him to hold his hand, and part of him firmly believed that she truly had only a short while ago. Right now, he wished for that feeling back more than he had ever wished for anything. But holding her letter was as close as he could get.

The words she had written and the poem and song she'd sent him never failed to be exactly what he needed. Every word she wrote touched him so deeply, it felt as if he was holding her very heart in his hands and could feel it beating in time with his own.

The words of the song she'd sent him seemed as if they could have been written just for them. _Long after my own heart has stopped, hers will go on. I will be safe, in her heart, until the day we can finally stand face to face._

It was not very long before thoughts of Bella had calmed him enough that he was able to write to her. He had already apologized to his family, but he felt just as strong a need, if not more so, to apologize to her. He knew he would need to apologize to his family again–he had never been more ashamed of himself than he was tight now–but he needed to put it on paper to Bella first.

Everything always made sense, fell into perspective when he thought about her.

He wrote quickly and had just put his letter in the drawer when his mother knocked on his door. She walked in quietly and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to speak first. Edward attempted to apologize for his behavior, but she raised her hand to stop him. "You do not owe me an apology Edward, and do not be too hard on yourself. You restrained yourself better than your father did."

At her words, understanding immediately filled him. "Their _disagreement_? All those years ago…. It was over this? This is why they didn't speak for years?"

His mother nodded her head, and the corners of her lips curved up into a reluctant smile. "Yes. Well, no. Not entirely, at least. They did not speak for years because your father broke your uncle's jaw. Although, this was why they fought in the first place."

Edward was astonished. He had rarely ever even seen his father angry, rarely ever even heard him raise his voice, and he had gotten into a _fist fight _with his brother. Even though his father was completely justified, Edward was shocked. Not to mention proud as hell. "Father got into a _fist fight_?"

"I would hardly go so far as to call it that. It was really just the one punch."

Seeing his mother with her hand curled into a tiny little fist imitating the punch his father threw at his brother left Edward suddenly doubled over and gasping for air, so hard did he laugh. _This is highly improper. I am burying my father in two days, and I am laughing so hard it hurts. _

_ "_Now, do come downstairs, darling. You have been up here for quite some time. It is nearly time for you to leave for you appointment, and your uncle is waiting for you."

That was enough to stop his laughter cold, and he dropped his head into his hands in shame. "Ugh, I am so embarrassed. I behaved so horribly. I must apologize again. I would not blame Uncle Michael if he chose to leave."

His mother kissed the top of his head before mussing his already untamable hair. She put her hand under his chin and forced him to look up at her. "Truly, Edward, you are being too hard on yourself. I believe you are in for a surprise."

"Mother, how can you be so calm? You know what he said. How can you even stand to have had him in your home?"

"Because, my love, I have always been able to see Richard for what he truly is, an insignificant, cowardly, petty, little man in a family of far, far better men–your father, your uncle, your grandfather. Richard has always paled sadly in comparison, as his own son does compared to his brothers', and no one sees this more clearly than he, himself. He can never truly offend me, dearest, because I do not need nor care to have his good opinion." Elizabeth cupped her son's face lovingly with both of her hands. "You handled yourself so well, Edward. I am sure your father is very proud."

Edward reluctantly rose and followed her downstairs, and as his mother predicted, he truly was surprised.

"I would have rolled over his toes for that, Edward!"

"I would have punched him in the nose, knocked his lights right out!"

"Now, boys..."

"As would I have."

All heads turned to Laura at that statement, shocked. She merely shrugged her shoulders and examined the garnet ring on her finger, a look of complete innocence on her face. "What? I would have."

"That will do, you three."

Edward felt apprehensive as his Uncle Michael approached him, but his uncle put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly and told him it was time to leave. Once outside and away from the house his uncle turned to him and said, "Edward, what Richard said was unpardonable. You had every right to throw him from the house. Please know that no one else in the family has ever… shared his opinion_._ When your father went to our parents with his intentions to marry your mother, they were overjoyed and gave their full consent."

Later that night, it was just Edward and his three cousins left in the parlor, his mother and uncle and aunt having already retired for the night. They were still discussing _"the incident,"_ as it was now being called.

_ Father had "the disagreement." I have "the incident." Wait until Bella hears that. _

Something soft hit him in the face, pulling Edward from his thoughts of Bella, and he picked up a ball of his mother's knitting yarn from in his lap.

"Hey, Eddie. Wake up. I'm talking to you."

He placed the yarn back in his mother's knitting basket. "You're risking your life you know, Mic. Mess with her yarn and my mother might just stab you in your sleep with a knitting needle. We seem to be very hot tempered in this house."

Everyone laughed.

"I'm sorry, Mic. I was thinking about someone. What did you say?"

Mic and Tommy shared a look, and Laura rolled her eyes. "Now you've done it, Edward. You've gotten them started."

"Someone _who_, Eddie?"

"A giiiiiirl someone?"

"You two are as bad as Frank and Joe. And stop calling me 'Eddie', _Mickey_."

"Really, Edward. 'Stick a sock in it'? What does that even mean?"

He laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "Honestly? I don't exactly know. I heard it from a friend. Oh, for Pete's sake, will you two stop it?"

Mic and Tommy were winking at him. "A friend. Right. Don't worry about us, Eddie. We won't tell a sole, will we, Tommy?"

"'Course not. Silent as church mice, we are."

"Is this _friend_ pretty, Edward? Does she know about your violent temper?"

"Do not pay any attention to them, Edward. They are just jealous as they have no friends." "Yes, that is it. That is true." Mic threw his head back dramatically and covered his eyes with the back of his hand. "Oh, woe is me, woe is me. I am stuck in my small, dark room all day every day, all alone, with no one but the pigeons on the ledge outside my one small, dirty window for company. And my dear cousin, my one link to the outside world, refuses to tell me about his friend."

Edward leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head at his cousin. "Your mother would tan your hide good if she ever heard you call her windows 'dirty.'"

"See how hard I have it? Even when I risk my very hide for news, he denies me."

Edward looked around at his cousins and contemplated doing something he never thought he would do. "Do you really want to know? Can you keep a secret?"

At his cousin's excited chorus of "Yes!" he nodded his head at them.

"Then come with me upstairs. There is something I want to show you."

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Well? What did you think? Drop me a review and let me know.

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Historical note - With early phonographs, the sound came out of a large horn, and they had no volume control. The only way a person could lower the volume was to stuff something in the mouth of the horn, hence the saying "Stick a sock in it." - Per phrases org uk . . . . . . . Per word-detective com - "...the first print citation for "put a sock in it" found so far comes from 1919... ...and takes the form of an explanation of the colloquial meaning of the phrase ("The expression 'Put a sock in it,' meaning 'Leave off talking, singing or shouting'"), hardly necessary if the phrase was widely known at that time."

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Hmmm... The first time "Stick (or put) a sock in it." was used in print was in 1919, and it was so new and not widely known, it needed a footnote explaining what it meant... Hey, maybe Edward and Bella coined a new phrase!

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The Model T was the first "affordable" car and would've been driven by the middle-class, average person. Uncle Richard sees himself as being superior to anyone who would drive a Model T. For example, a Model T Touring car listed for $690 in 1912. (That was the year I found the sale flyer for online.) Whereas Edward's father's new 1918 Cadillac Type 57 Touring Car sold for $2590.

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Thanks for reading! And remember, if you think you know why Edward and his family did not sail on the Titanic, even though his mother never succeeded in getting his father to change their plans, let me know.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you to my PTB betas, Jcat5507 & thir13enth!

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Bella and her mother go to a baseball game late in the chapter, which is described in some detail. One of my betas wondered about the significance of the game. Of the game itself, there isn't one, it's irrelevant, so don't worry about it if you don't understand the mechanics. But there is a point to the scene, which I'll explain in my end notes..

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_My Dearest Bella,_

_I have done something truly awful. I am so deeply ashamed of myself, I do not know how I will ever face my family again. I can scarcely bring myself to write the words to beg your forgiveness. _

_My father's brothers, my Uncle Richard and Uncle Michael, arrived in Chicago a short while ago and were all to stay here at the house with us. My mother's brothers, my Uncle George and Uncle Charles, accompanied me to the train station to meet them. I invited them to stay to lunch with us, but they declined. Now, I am deeply grateful they did not stay. My Uncle Richard was already in a foul mood when he arrived. I will not go into detail, suffice it to say he was not at all pleased to learn my father named my Uncle Michael and myself executors to his will. He continued in the belief that he would be handling my father's estate, in spite of my having clearly told him on the telephone that would not be the case. He and I both became heated and words were exchanged. I am mortified at my behavior. He made a comment that I do not believe he intended to say out loud, not at least in my presence, certainly. My mother's family is a good and respectable one but not of the same circle as my father's, and my mother was a hospital nurse before her marriage. My uncle said my father had made a very poor marriage and never should have married so far beneath himself. He used somewhat more colorful words, which I will not repeat, but that was his meaning. _

_Bella, his words angered me so intensely, I was unable to think clearly. I cannot bear now to think of my behavior. I am so ashamed. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to throw things. I was no better than a monster, an animal. I wanted nothing more than to put my hands around his throat and squeeze. My Uncle Michael put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt the anger fade. He strongly resembles my father, and that was enough to bring me back to myself. In the end, I threw him from the house and ran to my room like a frightened child. I am so very sorry, Bella. I have disappointed my parents and you, my dearest, dearest friend. I can only beg and hope forgiveness I do not deserve. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

_._

_._

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Bella was beyond livid. _You want to choke the bastard, Edward? I'll hold him down for you. _Sitting at their desk, she was unable to sit still and was shaking with anger, but on reading his letter a second time, her anger began to be overridden by concern. _Why are you being so hard on yourself, Edward? I wouldn't blame you if you did hit him, who could? After what he said, he would've richly deserved it. You, a monster? Please. No one could ever be further from being a monster than you. _In the end, her concern for him completely surpassed her anger at his uncle, and she wrote back, trying to assure him he had done nothing to be ashamed of.

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Renee was in the kitchen with the contents of her purse spilled all over the table when Bella entered the room later that day.

"What are you looking for, Mom?"

"I can't find the slip of paper I wrote your appointment for Sunday on. Do you remember what time it was?"

"1:30."

Bella walked over to the fridge, took the note off, and handed it to her mother before getting herself a Vitamin Water and sitting down at the table.

Her mother sighed. "I could've sworn I put that in my purse."

"How was the game?"

"Oh, good. I think. Phil's team won. So that's good, right? How was your day?"

"OK. I made a BLT earlier, you want one? I got tomatoes at the farmer's market after school."

"Oh, that sounds great, I'm starved."

Bella got up and got the bacon out of the fridge. "Should I put the rest on for Phil?"

When her mother didn't answer, Bella turned around and saw her lost in another bridal magazine, looking at the bridesmaid dresses this time. _Ugh. Not pink, not pink, not pink. Please, God, anything but pink._

"What do you think about mauve? I think it'll look nice with your dark hair."

Bella squirmed at the thought of having to wear pink. It looked fine on other people, but she wasn't crazy about it for herself. Rather like dresses in general. But... it was her mother's wedding, and if she really wanted her in pink, then she'd just have to suck it up and wear pink.

However, that didn't mean she'd give in without at least trying for a different color.

"I don't know. I was thinking maybe blue or purple." Her mother didn't say anything, and Bella wasn't sure she'd even heard her. "Mom?"

"What about this one, honey? I think it'll look great on you."

When she looked at the picture her mother was holding up, Bella moaned. "I don't know, Mom. It's kinda long, and I have that whole tripping and falling down thing."

"Hmmm, maybe it could be shortened."

The dress was floor length, fitted to the waist, and strapless. And, better still, it came in six different shades of pink.

_ Strapless. Great. Perfect. I can just rip the thing right off when I trip on it. 'How was the wedding? Oh, it was great. You should've been there. The bride's daughter tripped and fell and ripped her dress half off. Flashed everyone right there in the church. It'll be on Funniest Videos next month._

"I was really thinking of something with straps."

"Oh, but Bella, strapless is the style. You've got to have a strapless dress."

"_You_ don't."

"_I'm_ not sixteen."

Bella plastered a smile on her face. _It's her wedding. Just go to your happy place and deal with it. If you ever get married, you can elope to Vegas and wear an old T-shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and flip flops. Mismatched flip flops. _"You're the bride, Mom, whatever you want."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Well?" Edward sat at their desk with his cousins around him waiting for some kind of response after what he'd just told them. He was glad he'd decided to share this with them and was sure it was the right decision, but his cousins just looked back and forth at each other without saying a word. Frankly, he was a bit disappointed. It was anticlimactic to say the least. He did not know what he'd expected, but they should have had _some_ kind of reaction, surely.

Finally, Mic spoke up. "Edward? Have you hit your head recently?"

They thought he was cracking up. Not surprising, he remembered thinking that same thing himself once. "I assure you, I am perfectly sane. It is the truth."

"You seriously expect us to believe that you… put letters in Grandfather's desk… and… they vanish?"

"They do not just vanish."

"Oh, no. No, of course not. That would be silly. They magically appear in–when did you say?–_the 21__st__ Century,_ to someone who writes back to you."

"To Bella."

"Right, right. Yes, of course, to Bella. Edward, are you sure you are feeling quite well? You have been under a terrible strain these past few days, you know."

It was Laura who spoke up this time, before being cut off by Tommy. "It is not that we don't believe you, Edward–"

"Yes it is. It is that, exactly. We don't believe you."

"You cannot honestly expect us believe this, Edward," Mic added sympathetically.

Shaking his head at them, Edward hid his smile behind his hand. _Just wait, you will see. _He reached for a piece of paper and dipped his pen in ink. "I know it seems impossible. When I found her first letter, I truly thought I had lost my mind. Just watch, I will show you."

He wrote a quick note to Bella, but on opening the hidden compartment, he was surprised to see a letter there waiting for him already. He did not expect her to have written back already, and he was hesitant to take her letter out in front of his cousins. He was glad he had decided to tell them about her, but he'd never intended to actually share her letters with them. They were private. This letter in particular he would never want anyone else to see. _What if she is disappointed in me?_

"Do be serious, Edward. Hiding a letter and pretending it is from some mysterious girl in the future is not funny. I am surprised at you. This is hardly the time for jokes." Laura's reaching her hand out to take Bella's letter, believing he had put it there himself to play a trick on them, was enough to bring him back to himself, and Edward quickly grabbed Bella's letter before his cousin could touch it. For a moment it seemed as if his cousins faded away, and he was alone in his room with Bella's letter. He could hear Laura's shocked exclamation, but it did not matter. All that mattered was whether Bella forgive him.

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_Dear Edward,_

_When you said you threw your uncle out of the house, I do hope you meant that literally. I hope you meant you picked him up by the neck and the seat of his pants and physically chucked him out the door. It would serve him right. You should've ripped him a new one. _

_The only thing I can't understand is why on earth you feel so bad about it. You are being much too hard on yourself, Edward. Remember, my father is Chief of Police, trust me when I say that wanting to choke someone is not a crime. If it was, they would not be able to build enough prisons. No human being alive could have heard what he said and not reacted. If anything, I think you showed remarkable restraint. Much more than I would have. Please let it go. You have enough to deal with; do not waste time or energy worrying yourself sick over him. He is not worth it._

_Your friend, always,_

_Bella_

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_ She forgives me._

"Edward, are you ill? You are quite pale."

_She forgives me. _

"Edward? Edward, answer me."

"She forgives me."

"Edward, what are you talking about? Who forgives you?"

"She… Bella… she... forgives me."

Similar to how he felt when he first heard Mic's voice at the train station that afternoon, Edward felt the most enormous relief at her words, like a tremendous weight was suddenly lifted off of him, and he was able to breathe again. He had been so worried she would think poorly of him, but now he felt positively weak with relief.

Mic was sitting near enough to him that he was able to lean forward and grab Bella's letter. "Really, Edward, this is taking things too far."

"No!" Edward leaped up and grabbed the letter away from his cousin.

"Edward! Enough is enough."

Edward ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair, and apologized to his cousins. "I am sorry. But I am not joking. I promise you what I am telling you is the truth. Watch." Picking up the letter he had just written to Bella, Edward put it in the compartment before closing it and putting the drawer back in his desk. "There. Open it and see for yourselves."

"Really, Edward, I don't see–"

"Just... Please, Mic, trust me. Open it and look. See for yourself."

Edward moved out of the way, and Mic, visibly annoyed, rolled himself close enough to the desk to pull the drawer back out and opened the hidden compartment. "Edward, if you have rigged something to jump out at me…."

Mic leaned back in his chair with the drawer on his lap, obviously surprised. "It's gone." "See, I told you."

Rolling his eyes at his credulous older brother, Tommy stepped forward and took the drawer from him. "Let me see that. It is just hidden somewhere. What did you do, put something sticky on the back of the false bottom?"

Tommy took the drawer back to his sister, and they examined it together before grudgingly admitting it was a good trick. "How did you do it?"

"It is not a trick. I put my letters to her in the hidden compartment, and somehow, she gets them. It is the same with her letters to me."

"So, they just _appear_ in her desk?"

"No, actually. I do not think they every actually leave the desk. Somehow, they just…. I realize this sounds insane, impossible, and believe me, at first I truly worried I had lost my mind, but they leave our time and appear in hers. As do her letters to me." It was clear his cousins still did not believe him, but Edward could hardly blame them. They only had his word that what was happening to him and Bella was real; he was one of the ones it was actually happening to, and he'd had trouble accepting it in the beginning.

"How can she get them if they never actually leave Grandfather's desk?"

"She has this very desk. It was given to her as a gift by one of our descendants."

Mic was scratching his head and rubbed his hand across his face. "Edward, this is simply not possible."

His conversation from weeks ago with Dr. Cullen sprang to Edward's mind. "A thing is only impossible until someone does it. Look at aeroplanes. Grandfather would have thought them impossible, but we have them."

Laura and Tommy agreed with their brother.

"I am sorry, Edward. I cannot believe this."

"If it is true, prove it to us."

"You saw it happen, how else can I prove it?"

It was Tommy who made the inevitable request. "Ask her to tell us something. Ask her when the war will end."

Uncomfortable, Edward looked down at the floor and answered very quietly. "November 11th. She has already told me." As he expected, his statement was met with absolute silence. That was not the type of thing someone expects to hear. "You cannot tell anyone else. No one. Who would believe you? You are my cousins, and even you don't believe me."

Mic spoke very hesitantly, "November? This November? That is... that is in… less than four months."

Edward could see that his cousins still found this very hard to believe, but they were looking at him now with hope in their eyes. They knew of his intention to enlist and of the friends he already had over there fighting; they knew he would not say something like that lightly. Laura and Tommy were still silent. Mic leaned forward as far as he could. "Edward, are… are you… are you in earnest? Will the war truly end… in… in less than four months?"

"Yes. Upon my honor, the war will end, and the men will come home."

His cousins eyes were all fixed solidly on him. Mic licked his lips before wiping them with his hand. "How?"

"She did not go into detail. Remember for her," he waved his hand around like he was showing off the room to someone who had never seen it, "all of this was a very long time ago. You studied the War of 1812, but how much do you remember? She only said an armistice will be signed."

Mic looked up, shocked, but it was Laura who spoke this time in an uncertain voice. "_1812_? But… but… that was… that was…"

Edward nodded his head in understanding, finishing the sentence she was unable to. "A very long time ago."

Again, he was met with silence. He did not speak for several minutes, knowing his cousins needed time to absorb what they had been told, and when he did, his cousins jumped although he spoke very softly. "There is another thing she told me. Two things, actually. Neither good, and both going to happen very soon."

At the scared looks on his cousins' faces, Edward hastened to explain. "Not to us. Not to us directly, anyway. On the 17th..." he trailed off, surprised that the time had gone so quickly and feeling guilty for not have realized it. _Two days. People are going to die in two days. And I forgot. I actually forgot._ "The Russian Czar and his family are being held prisoners. You all know that." Without saying a word, his cousins nodded their heads in unison.

Edward took a deep breath and let it out in a rush of words. "They are going to be assassinated. All of them. On the 17th. It will be officially announced a couple of days later, but only the Czar. The announcement will say the 16th, but it was–or will be–after midnight in the early hours of the 17th, and it will say that his wife and heir were taken to a place of safety, when in actuality, they were all killed."

When he paused for a moment, Mic spoke, "You said, you said two things."

"The Carpathia will be sunk. That same day. Five people will be killed. Near Ireland."

Laura wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. "This is horrible. Oh, this is horrible. I am never going to another fortune teller again."

Edward agreed. "I thought that same thing when she first told me. Pretending to know the good is one thing; truly knowing the bad is something else entirely."

Ever the optimist, Mic tried to look on the bright side. "But the war will end. That is... that is the most important. The war will end."

Everyone silently nodded their heads solemnly, thinking of the people who did not know their lives would end in less than forty eight hours.

Laura broke the silence. "I would not want to know. If it was me, I would not want to know." "I would."

Everyone looked at Mic, and Edward asked, "You would?"

Looking down at his useless legs, Mic slowly nodded his head. "Yes, I would. Without a doubt. That last day… None of you can ever understand... There are so many things I wish I had done. I wish I had gone for a walk. I wish I had played ball. Gone fishing. Done something. _Anything._ Just... jumped up and down, even. But I did nothing. I just sat around the house moping about some inconsequential thing that I cannot even recall. Then they were just gone. Overnight. They were just gone.

"Losing something is not the worst thing in the world. Knowing you wasted it on the last day you had it is far worse."

Shaking off his melancholy characteristically, Mic looked over at Tommy, who had not uttered a single sound since asking for proof that what Edward was telling them was true. "You OK there, Tommy Boy?" Tommy's eyes were fixed firmly on the floor. He was so very big for his age, it was sometimes too easy to forget he was only just thirteen.

He nodded his head but did not look up, and Edward thought he heard a soft sniffle. The other three shared a glance and gave the younger boy some privacy.

Mic asked Edward, "What about you, Eddie? If your days were numbered, would you want to know?"

Edward didn't answer right away. In his case, it wasn't a fair question. In his case, it was the other way around. He knew he had time. Time enough at least to marry and have children, or at least one child. He didn't tell his cousins who it was exactly who had given Bella their grandfather's desk– that it had been, or will be, his grandson.

_Still, though... Just because it is not going to be anytime soon, does not mean that when my time does come that it won't come very suddenly. Would I want to know? Would Father have wanted to know? Would it be better to know, to give you a chance to do what was most important to you, to tell someone you love them or to be able to tell them good-bye? Or would it be agonizing, counting every minute, watching them tick away one by one while knowing there are so many things you will never do, places you will never go, people you will never see again? _

"I do not know. I honestly do not know. I think I am glad to not have to choose."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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_ Ugh, ew, ew, ew._ Bella closed herself in her room trying very hard to get the memory of the way her mom and Phil were looking at each other out of her head. _That is just _so_ not right. Ew ew ew ew. What are they going to be like _after_ the wedding? Oh, God... _

She understood that now that the preseason had started, Phil would be on the road a lot, and she understood that would be rotten for her mother. (Once, she'd made the mistake of thinking _how hard it would be for her mother_. Only once.) She understood Phil's first road trip started tomorrow, and she understood that they would miss each other.

That did not mean she wanted to be _anywhere_ nearby when they said good-bye.

Bella wasn't naïve enough to think her mother had been celibate since leaving her father, but her mother had always been very careful to never so much as kiss a man whenever Bella was there, and there were never, ever sleepovers. Now that they were engaged, though, apparently, all bets were off, and there were no holds barred.

Bella shuddered. _Oh, God! There's another expression to add to the banned forever list. _

She looked at the clock; it was nearly four o'clock. Phil had a home game tonight at 7:30 that she and her mother were going to, and he had to be at the field by 5:15.

Hearing her mother's bedroom door close, Bella quickly decided to make herself scarce for the next hour and fifteen minutes. Grabbing her iPod off the charger and her purse off their desk and making very sure her ear buds were in place before opening her door, Bella yelled, "Going for a walk!" and ran out the door as quickly as she could without falling.

Only a few steps out the door, she felt something very small collide with her from behind, and she turned around, pulling her ear buds out. "What the...? Oh, Kenny. How's my bestest little bud?"

Kenny was jumping up and down excitedly, pointing to his mouth, and yelling, "Miss Belly, look'it look'it! Miss Belly, look'it look'it!

Sonia Ruiz came up to them. "Kenny, tell Miss Bella you're sorry. You ran right into her." "I'm sorry, Miss Belly, but look'it look'it look'it!"

"It's OK, Kenny. I didn't hear you. What am I looking at?"

Kenny was still jumping up and down. "My tooth, my tooth, my tooth! Look'it my tooth, it's loose! Look'it, Miss Belly! I got a loose tooth! I got a loose tooth!"

"You do? Let me see."

The excited little boy stopped jumping up and down just long enough to give his front tooth a wiggle.

Bella could only smile at how excited the little boy was, and she knelt down next to him, put her hands on her face and pretended to be surprised by something. "Kenny! Guess what!"

Having started running around in circles again pretending to be an airplane, Kenny stopped and ran back to Bella, who scooped him up in her arms. "What? What? What? What?"

"Kenny! Guess what, guess what!"

"What, Miss Belly?! What?!"

Tickling him, Bella asked, "Did you know you've got a loose tooth?"

Kenny giggled wildly as she kept tickling him before setting him back on the ground.

"Do you think The Tooth Fairy will come, Miss Belly? Do you, do you?"

Before answering, Bella shot a quick glance at Sonia, and at her nod she answered, "I bet he will. Only if you're good, though. Have you been good?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Then I bet he will."

Sonia and Bella watched Kenny run around in circles. "Someday, someone is going to figure out how to bottle that energy and make a fortune."

Bella nodded her head in agreement.

"How have the wedding plans been going?"

Bella shrugged her shoulders as she answered, "Good, I guess. We have an appointment to go for my dress tomorrow."

Sonia looked at Bella. "You don't sound very excited. You do like Phil, don't you?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Phil's great. It's shopping I don't like."

Sonia laughed, "I thought all teenage girls loved to shop. I know I did."

"Not me. My mom always says I was born middle-aged and get older every year."

"Where are you off to? Friday night plans?"

"No, just going for a walk. Phil has to leave for his first road trip tomorrow. Actually, he has a game tonight, and their buses leave right after it. They'll get to Vegas sometime early tomorrow. He'll be gone for eight days." She looked over her shoulder, back at the house, and looked around to see how close Kenny was. "They're, ah... they're… _saying goodbye._"

Sonya nodded her head understandingly and laughed. "Aha, gotcha. They take the bus? I always thought baseball players all traveled on chartered jets."

"Not in the minors, they don't."

Kenny ran back up to them. "Mommy, can Miss Belly come play with me? Can you, Miss Belly? Can you? Can you?"

"Not tonight, sweetest. Miss Bella and her mommy are going to a baseball game." "OOOHH! Can I go, too? Can I, can I, can I?"

Bella knelt down to him. "Not this time, little man. It's going to be over very late. Another time, I promise. I think they even give tours of the stadium to extra good little boys. Do you know any extra-good little boys? I mean really, really extra, extra good?"

Jumping up and down, Kenny yelled, "Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!"

"I think I might just be able to, possibly, maybe, see what I can do."

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Thank you, Miss Belly! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Hugging her legs, Kenny was still jumping up and down in his excitement, and Bella ruffled his hair.

"Is it alright if Kenny goes for a little walk with me, Mrs. Ru... sorry, Sonia? I'm just going to the book store on Oak St."

"I think that'd be OK. Do you want to go for a walk with Miss Bella, Kenny?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Then let's go, little man."

Mann's Books was just about Bella's favorite place in the world. It dated to the late 1920's in the same location, and the current owners were the third generation of Manns to own the store. It was big enough that she could find what she wanted, but not so big that she couldn't find what she wanted. And the best part–there was no plastic, fiberglass, or laminate anywhere in the place.

"Look, Kenny, they're having storytelling. Do you want to hear a story?"

An older woman Bella knew to be one of the second generations of Manns was already in the middle of a story when she signed him in. They had their picture taken together, and she found him a seat among the other kids. She'd seen parents do this a lot. They often had story time for the kids, so the parents could shop in peace. And, of course, all the books read during story time were conveniently on sale that day. The picture was taken for security. Whoever signed a child in had their picture taken with the child and was the only one who could sign the child out.

Bella browsed around at little, but there was something in particular she was looking for. _Here we go._ She picked up a copy of _Baseball for Dummies_ and grinned. _Only for you, Edward. Only for you. _

She began flipping through the pages. _What is baseball… Suiting up… Rules… Swinging… Pitching… Defense… Base running… Oh, yeah, this is perfect._

On her way to the cashier, Bella noticed a display of pretty stationary, decorative Victorian-style boxes, pens, and journals. They were all on sale, and as she stopped to look at them, she bit her lip, suddenly self-conscious. Edward has always written to her on obviously expensive stationary, but her letters to him were just on paper ripped out of her school notebooks.

Most of the stationary was much too girly for her tastes, but there was one that caught her eye. It was plain white and trimmed with purple. She picked up the box that was open for display and felt the paper. It was heavy and slightly textured. Bella nodded to herself and picked up a box of stationary and a new pen. _Some girls do their hair or make up or wear sexy clothes to impress a guy. Not me, I buy paper. _She looked at the boxes, too. _It would be nice to have somewhere special to keep his letters. I just have them stacked in the bottom drawer._ Bella picked out a rectangular shaped box in dark purple that wasn't too overly ornate.

After paying, she went back to the kid's area. Luckily, a story was just ending. "Are you ready to go, Angel?"

Kenny took her hand, and she signed him out. They gave her their picture, and she put it in her bag.

On their way home, Kenny told her all about the story they'd read. "Amelia Bedelia is silly, Miss Belly. Someone told her to hit the road, and she went outside and hit the road with a stick!"

As they walked down their street, Bella was relieved to see Phil's car was gone from the driveway. After taking Kenny home, she went inside to find her mom. "Hey, Mom. I'm back. What time do you want to go?"

Renee was sitting on the couch folding clothes with the laundry basket on the floor next to her. She didn't answer Bella. She had just picked one of Phil's T-shirts out of the basket, and she started to cry.

_ Oh crap._ "Mom, hey. It's OK. It's only a little while. Don't… don't cry." _Please, please, please don't cry._ "He'll be back soon. You'll see."

Her mother nodded her head and wiped her eyes but didn't say anything.

"I'm just, ah, I'm just going to go hang out in my room. Call me... when... when you're ready to go." Unaccustomed to consoling people, Bella went over to her mother and gave her an awkward hug before running to her room and hiding. As soon as she got to her room she put her book down on their desk and looked for a new letter but didn't find one. She'd been thinking about Edward all week. He'd buried his father two days ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. Since the letter after the blow up with his uncle four days ago, she had only gotten just one short note that same day. She still could not believe what it said.

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_My Dearest Bella,_

_I told my cousins about you. They think I must have hit my head. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

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_._

_ Really, Edward. I don't know if there are any cosmic laws about time traveling letters, but if there are, I'm pretty sure "DON'T TELL ANYONE!" would be way up high on that list. What were you thinking?_

Although she wasn't entirely surprised to not have heard anything given his circumstances, she still worried. _I hope his uncle isn't making trouble for him._

On the other hand, although it was something she'd originally only thought of jokingly, what if his telling his cousins what was happening really did break whatever spell they were under?

Trying not to think like that, Bella sat down at their desk and started to look through _Baseball for Dummies _and had just gotten through the section on the rules when her mother called her, and she walked into the living room still reading her book. "I don't understand this game at all, Mom. The rules all have exceptions, and even the exceptions have exceptions."

"What do you have there, honey?"

Bella held the book of for her mom to see. "Oh, baby, what a good idea. Thank you, sweetie. Maybe we'll understand what's going on at the game."

"What? Oh, right." _Jeez,_ _I did it again. I never even thought about Phil. _"I think it'll take more than one night to figure this out, Mom. It's really confusing." Bella handed her mom the book and Renee was now looking through it, a little over optimistically in Bella's opinion.

"I'm sure we can figure it out. How hard can it be? It's only a game after all."

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"Shouldn't he be out? The ball got there first, why is he safe?" Bella was questioning the wife of one of Phil's friends on the team, who had introduced herself way back in the first inning and had made the mistake of offering to help them understand the game. Actually, grilling would be a better word for what she was doing to the poor woman, who Bella suspected regretted ever opening her mouth, but she was determined to understand as much as she could before the game was over.

Her mother had only made it to the top of the third inning before giving up.

_ Top of the inning, that means the away team is batting, and the home team is in the field. See, Edward, I learned something tonight. _

It was now the bottom of the 9th, and Phil's team was batting, down by a run. Bella had been writing notes in her book for three hours.

"He's our player, Bella. It's a good thing he's safe."

"No. I mean, yes. I understand that. I just don't understand _why_ he's safe if the ball was there first."

The poor woman–whose name Bella had completely forgotten–explained, "He stole second. When a player steals a base, it's not a force play. He has to be tagged with the ball. You can't just tag the base and get him out; you have to actually tag him. His foot was on the base before the tag was applied."

Bella repeated what the woman said and took notes as if she was studying for finals. "…stolen base… not a force play… tag runner…."

The woman smiled at her indulgently. "You remind me of me when I first started dating Dave, Bella. I didn't know anything about baseball either, and I was eager to learn everything there was to learn. I figured, how hard can it be? It's just a game."

Bella laughed and tried to whisper, but there was too much noise. "That's _exactly_ what my mom said on our way here. So, how did you and Dave meet?"

"He was the star shortstop on our high school team. Everyone knew he'd go pro even then, and he already had scouts looking at him in our junior year. He could've had any girl in school he wanted." She laughed and shook her head, remembering back six years ago. "There was this one girl, Tiffany. She actually offered to carry _his_ books. You should've seen this girl, a Barbie doll would've taken one look her and said, 'Oh, please, those are _sooooo_ fake'."

Bella laughed and the other woman– Kate, she remember now–continued, "At least if her plane ever goes down over the ocean, she's got her own built-in floatation device."

"What happened? Did he ask this Tiffany out?"

"All the kids assumed he would. Who Tiffany wanted, Tiffany got. And she wanted him in a big way. But, no, he didn't. He asked a member of the debate team to prom a week later. Surprised everyone in school, let me tell you." Kate looked at her husband coming up to the plate. She waved and blew him a kiss before looking back at Bella. "My dress was blue. We've been together ever since."

Bella grinned from ear to ear as Kate showed her her wedding and engagement rings. "We were married in December."

"That is such a great story. Tiffany must've been pissed."

"Could've spit nails. Till this day she glares at me if we see each other when Dave and I go back home."

Kate looked at her with a knowing smile on her face. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a bit of a crush on a ball player."

Bella could feel her face burn and looked to make sure her mom wasn't paying attention before answering as quietly as she could. "Maybe a little."

Kate winked at her. "I knew it. Someone at school?"

When Bella said no, Kate looked at her with a little concern forming in her eyes. "The guys on the team are all great guys, Bella, but they're a bit too old for you."

"What? Oh, no. Oh, God, no. He's 17," _well, technically, he's 108, but who cares about semantics,_ "but he doesn't go to my school. He's just a guy I know."

The pitcher had made a show of making a couple throws to second to keep the runner, one of the fastest guys on the team, from taking too big of a lead, but was pitching to the batter now, and both Bella and Kate focused on the game again. There were two outs, and the man on second was the only runner. With a count of two and two, Dave singled, and the runner advanced to third. Another player walked up to the plate, and Phil came out of the dugout.

Leaning toward her, Kate said, "Look, Bella, Phil's on deck."

Bella thumbed through her book trying to look up what "on deck" meant.

Kate laughed and explained, "That means he's next up after the batter at the plate now."

"Oh. Why do they call it that?"

"Absolutely no idea."

Bella turned to her mom and pointed to Phil. "Mom, look, Phil's on deck."

Her mom had been looking around absentmindedly but brightened when she saw Phil. He was swinging a bat with circles at the end.

The runner on third was taking as big a lead as he could. Bella wanted to ask Kate what the circle things on the bat were, but she was watching the game again, and she didn't want to interrupt her. There were still two outs, but the tying run was now on third. Bella had to admit, it was exciting.

The batter swung at the first ball and missed. The umpire yelled, "Strike one!" The second and third pitches were high and outside, and the count was now two and one. The pitcher threw over to third trying to pick off the runner, and Bella was on her feet with everyone else. Everyone was yelling, "Come on!" and she was surprised to realize she was yelling right along with them.

The pitcher was looking at the catcher, and Bella could see him shaking his head, as if he was saying, "No". _What's he saying no to? _Who's_ he saying no to? _After a few shakes of his head, the catcher got up and jogged out to the mound. The infielders all jogged in and met the pitcher and catcher, all talking with their mitts over their faces.

The umpire went out and broke it up, and the players all went back to their positions.

The pitcher looked at third, and the runner went back and touched the base with his foot before taking a lead again. The next pitch was low, but the batter didn't swing. The count went to three and one. The pitcher looked at third again briefly before throwing one right down the middle. The batter got his pitch and swung. The ball flew. Bella was on her feet screaming with everyone else. It almost looked as if the ball was going in slow motion.

The runners had taken off at the crack of the bat, and the runner on third had already scored with Dave heading for third. The ball was going right down the third base line, but it was hooking left. It went over the fence just to the wrong side of the foul pole, and with a collective groan, the entire crowd fell back into their seats.

The umpire yelled, "Strike two!"

Bella felt as if she'd been punched. She looked at Kate, who had her head in her hands, shaking her head. "Why isn't that a home run? It went over the fence! Why isn't it a home run?"

Kate didn't answer; it was on old man behind who leaned forward and said, "That's what they call 'a noisy strike', honey."

The man was the grandfather of one of the players, and Kate looked back and smiled at him. "It was a foul ball, Bella. It's only a home run if it's fair. If it's foul, it's just a strike, just a very noisy strike. It's a dead ball. The runners have to go back to their bases."

"You mean we have to do it all over again?"

"Yup."

"I don't think I like this game."

"Oh, just wait. There will be times when you'll absolutely hate it."

The count was now three and two. The next two pitches were fouled back and out of play. Bella was sitting on the edge of her seat with her hands over her face, peaking out between her fingers. _I really don't think I like this game._

The next pitch was hit sharply, a ground ball down the third base line, just fair this time. The runners took off at the crack of the bat, and the runner on third crossed the plate. The third baseman was playing deep and dove, only just reaching the ball. He spun around and threw to first from his knees. Dave represented the winning run and had rounded second heading for third. The play at first was very close, and Bella was on her feet, actually holding her breath, her hands in fists.

"You're Out!"

"What!? _What_!_"_ Bella looked around, and everyone was grumbling and beginning to gather their things. "But, but… What?"

Kate looked at her sympathetically. "I know it sucks, Bella. It was a tough one, but if you've got your eye on a ball player, you're going to have to get used to it. Can't win'em all."

"But…."

Kate looked around passed Bella and said good-bye to Renee. "It was nice to meet you, Bella." She added in a whisper with a wink, "Good luck with your guy," and then she was gone.

Bella watched her go. "But… But…."

"Oh, my back is killing me, these seats are horrible. You ready to go, honey? Got everything? Let's get out of here. It's been a long day, and I'm beat."

"What? Oh. Oh, yeah, I, I have everything." Bella had her book in her hand, and her purse was on her seat next to her. She followed her mother out of the stadium still looking back at the field, confused.

_ But he scored. The guy on third, he scored. The game is tied. We tied it. What the hell? I really, really don't think I like this game. Edward, you have got some explaining to do._

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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No historical notes this time, since most of the chapter is Bella's POV.

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As for the baseball game scene, like I said, the game itself means nothing, but the scene does. My beta mentioned it could be seen as a mother–daughter bonding scene, but I see it as just the opposite. I wanted to show Bella trying to learn about something Edward was interested in. I also wanted to show sort of "a flip side" to Jason. Kate's husband, Dave, asked out the girl he really liked instead of Tiffany–the popular girl the whole school expected him to ask out–and they lived happily ever after. But Jason didn't. He caved and gave in to his friends' expectations and asked out the popular (read: easy) girl instead. He regrets it, but it's too late. Also, it sets up a scene in a later chapter. Lastly, I was a bit caught up in the Royal Wedding last year, so Kate–a recent bride–is named for Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge. I thought it would be a bit overkill to make her husband's name William, though.

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I was surprised how many people said the Masens couldn't have sailed on Titanic because it never reached NYC. There were a lot of American's on board coming home. You didn't necessarily sail both ways on the same ship. But that is the basic gist of it, they were on a later sailing. It's just the reasoning that surprised me, especially since in the movie, Jake was an American returning home.

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Thanks for reading! Any comments or questions, drop me a review!

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	11. Chapter 11

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and jennej, and my Twilighted Beta, Jakeward

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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On the last day of his Uncle Michael's stay, Edward was the first person down to breakfast. Over the past few days, he and his cousins had continued the discussion they'd started Monday night after he told them about Bella. He'd told them of his resolution to not waste a single day, to not put things off until tomorrow, and they had all agreed, going so far as to make a plan between themselves. They knew their parents had all talked several times of Edward and his parents paying a visit to them in New York City, but the visit never happened. One family or the other was always too busy. There would always be next year.

No longer. There wasn't always a next year.

Given Edward's father's death, a visit sooner than next summer would not be possible, but they were determined to see that it happened this time, and last night after dinner, Mic broached the subject to his father. His father had readily agreed, and would propose it to Elizabeth sometime early in the new year, once she had had time to mourn, and insist upon their coming.

_ It will give Mother something to look forward to. We can go to the Great White Way and take in a show or two. We can go to Atlantic City and walk along the Boardwalk and bathe in the sea. It is a good plan. She will be herself again. This will not break her. Father would not want it, and I will not allow it._

"Good morning, Nellie, Catherine."

"Good morning, Mr. Masen, sir."

"No one else down yet?"

Nellie poured him a cup of coffee, "No, sir. You are the first. Everyone will be down shortly, I expect. Maggie went up to help the ladies dress."

Edward had wanted to be the first one down this morning as he was anxious to see the newspaper, but now that he had it in front of him, he too was nervous to open it. July 17th had come and gone, and Edward expected to see the news of the assassination of the Russian royal family on the front page any day now. Bella had told him it would be in the papers a couple days afterward and had actually given him the exact wording, but she had not given him the date on which it would appear.

"Is anything the matter, Mr. Masen?"

"What? Oh, no… no, nothing." 

_ Just pick it up and open it. It is not going to bite you. _

Edward reached out for the paper. He opened it quickly, and when this morning's headlines greeted him, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"_EX-CZAR OF RUSSIA KILLED BY ORDER OF URAL SOVIET" _

He set the paper down and covered his face with trembling hands. _It happened, Bella. It happened._ After a few moments, he picked the paper back up and read the article. "_Wife and son sent to a place of safety." Exactly like you said. _

Edward was sitting staring blindly at the paper when he heard his cousins coming down the stairs, and he rose to meet them.

He'd had some minor concerns about accommodating Mic during his stay, but he knew they would somehow manage it. The first time he saw Mic tackle the staircase was something he knew he would never forget. Either his father or brother would help him out of his chair and sit him on the stairs. From there he would lift himself up and hoist himself up the stairs using his hands, dragging his legs, one stair at a time. It was slow, but it was amazing, and the first time he saw it, he stood there with his mouth hanging open. He remembered his cousin's words: "Close your mouth, Eddie. You will catch flies. What, did you think you were going to carry me like some damsel in distress? Scrawny little thing like you? You'd drop me. This is nothing. Wait till you see me come down. I brought a sled."

Mic's mother had reprimanded him for making jokes at a time like this, but Mic's jokes were just what Edward needed. Mic's jokes were _normal_.

His uncle was waiting at the bottom of the steps with his son's wheelchair, and Tommy was following his brother down. Coming down the stairs was a bit trickier that going up, but Mic had mastered it.

"Top'o the mornin' to you, Eddie." Mic nodded his head at the paper in his hands. The corners of his mouth were raised in a smile in an attempt to appear normal, but his eyes were very serious, and Edward could hear the strain in his voice. "Anything interesting in the paper this morning?"

Edward tried to answer him, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, nodded his head, and tried again. "Yes. Yes, there is. The Russian Czar has been assassinated."

His uncle stepped forward after helping his son back into his wheelchair and exclaimed, "What! Let me see that."

Edward handed him the paper, and the three boys looked at each other before following him to the dining room, where they were taking breakfast during their stay, in silence. Not one of them uttered a word while he read the article. When his uncle had finished, he put the paper down on the table and said, "Shocking, simply shocking. Damned Bolsheviks. Upon my honor, I do not know what the world is coming to. What will become of the Czarina and the children, I wonder? Asylum somewhere, I suppose."

The four ate silently–Edward and his cousins knowing what his uncle did not, that the Czarina, the Duchesses, and the heir were all dead as well, not to mention five crewmen aboard the Carpathia–and when they were finished, Michael Masen set his fork down, wiped his mouth with his napkin, leaned back, and folded his arms across his chest, looking slowly from one to another. "All right, you three. Out with it. What have you done?"

Edward and his cousins looked back and forth between each other in confusion before Mic asked, "What do you mean? We have done nothing."

Michael Masen continued to look slowly between his sons and nephew. "The one and only time in my life I have ever seen the three of you silent for five minutes together was Wednesday during the service. Let's have it."

It was Edward who spoke up this time. "Honestly, Uncle Michael, we have not done anything."

Unfortunately, Laura chose that moment to hurry breathlessly into the room and, not realizing in time that her father was also there, anxiously said, "Well?" She startled and stopped up short when she saw her father. "Oh, Father, I did not see you. Good morning."

Her father leaned forward with his elbows on the table and looked at his daughter. "Good morning, dearest. You seem very impatient to see your brothers and cousin this morning. Why might that be?"

Laura's eyes darted first to Edward, who gave a barely perceptible nod of his head. She paled visibly, and her eyes widened as she turned them to her brothers, before settling finally on her father.

Laura Masen had always prided herself on her ability to think quickly, but at this moment she could think of nothing other than the fact that Edward had been telling them the truth. With a badly shaking hand, she reached out for the nearest chair and eased herself into it slowly.

Just as her father was about to press them for whatever they might have gotten up to, Elizabeth and Louise entered the room. Having seen Laura's reaction, both women were very distressed, and her father was prevented from questioning them further. Laura tried to assure her mother and aunt she was well, but her voice was trembling. "No. Mother, Aunt Elizabeth, I am quite well, I assure you. Please, do not worry yourselves, I merely became light headed for a moment. I will just have something to eat, and I will be fine." Both women hesitantly accepted her assurances, but both–Elizabeth especially–watched her closely for the rest of the morning.

Under the scrutiny of the three adults, it was nearly lunch time before Edward and his cousins could find a few moments privacy. There was a large porch swing and a couple chairs on the back porch, and they met there. It was not nearly as private as they would have wished, but their parents were still hovering over them for their different reasons, and anything more private would have aroused the suspicion of Edward's uncle.

Once seated, Mic, Laura, and Tommy all questioned Edward at the same time.

"How long has this been going on?"

"How is this happening?"

"Who is this girl? What else has she told you?"

Edward looked anxiously around to see if they had been overheard and urged them to keep their voices down. "Her name is Bella Swan. She is sixteen-years-old, and lives in Phoenix, Arizona in the early 21st century. I received her first letter in June.

"I had written a letter to you, Mic, and put it in the hidden compartment in Grandfather's desk, like I always do before putting my letters in the mail. Later that night I wanted to add more to the letter, but when I looked for it, it was gone. It never occurred to me that it had actually vanished, of course. I assumed I had misplaced it.

"Somehow... she found it, and on a whim, wrote back to me. I found her letter the next day when I looked for my letter to you, and we have been writing to one another ever since. Neither of us has any idea how this is happening."

He stopped for a moment, unsure of exactly how much he wanted to share with his cousins. He knew how he felt, but he had never tried to put it in words, never tried to put a name to it, and he certainly had never thought he would ever try to explain it to anyone else. But something was urging him to share this with them, telling him it was the right thing to do, and when he saw their mesmerized faces, the words came to him. He felt his face heat up and looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. He spoke so softly, they had to lean forward to hear him. "Personally... I believe it must be some... some miracle... some wonderful miracle. I know we shall never meet, but… I feel… such a… connection… to her. I cannot describe it. She is… one of the most… important… people in the world to me."

Edward paused once again to collect his thoughts, and when he spoke his voice was stronger, confident, and he looked up to meet his cousins' eyes.

"I would not trade my friendship with her for anything in the world."

Filled with awe, Laura's eyes were brimmed with tears. "You love her."

It wasn't a question but a statement.

_ I love her? I... _love..._ her? _As Edward thought the words to himself their truth struck him speechless, and a piece of himself he had never noticed was missing slid perfectly into place and completed him absolutely. _I love her. Dear Lord... I do... I _love_ her._

Hearing his cousin's declaration was like being stripped of blinders he hadn't known he'd been wearing, and Edward could not believe he had not seen before what was so plainly obvious to him now. How could he have fallen in love and not realized it? Shouldn't it have been like it was for his friend, Joe, the first time he saw Violet? The wonder that had lit up his friend's eyes was unmistakable to anyone who saw it. How could he not have known?

Now that he thought about it, so many things made sense in light of his realization. The incredible disappointment he'd felt at the discovery that she was much too far from him for there to be any possibility they could ever meet, not even in his very old age...

And hadn't he questioned Dr. Cullen about soul mates and the purpose of a miracle that only shows him what he could never have?

Edward remembered his anxiety and despondency when he hadn't heard from her for days at a time. How could he not have realized the truth? How could he not have realized why seeing a new letter from her filled him with such joy, or why he drew so much strength and comfort from her words?

Next to his mother's, it had been _Bella's_ forgiveness he'd most desperately wished for after the incident with his Uncle Richard. How could he not have recognized the significance of that?

_I love her._

Edward was completely overcome, and he wondered if the truth was as plan on his face at that moment as it had been on Joe's that day at the Red Cross building. He made several attempts before he was able to speak the words.

"Yes, I believe I do."

.

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

.

"Oh, honey, look! It's the dress I saw in the magazine. Oh, you have to try it on! Abby, don't you think it would look great on her?"

Rubbing the back of her neck, Bella looked at the dress much the same way a prisoner would look at the gallows.

"I don't know, Mom."

On the other hand, her mom was looking at the dress like she was a kid in a candy store.  
>"Just try it on, honey. It'll be fun."<p>

Dress shopping was about as much fun to Bella as a root canal.

Renee gushed over another dress. "Oh, how about this one? Does this come in pink?"

"It looks just like the first one, Mom."

"Oh, no! Look, they're completely different. The first one has a much lower waist."

Standing next to her mother, Abby was holding the two dresses Renee had decided Bella _absolutely had _totry on. "I don't think there is such a thing as a bridesmaid's dress that doesn't come in at least three shades of pink, Ms. Swan."

Bella rolled her eyes. _Great. Two against one. Gang up on me, why don't you? _"I really don't know about strapless, Mom. I don't want to be tugging the thing up all night." She looked down at her chest and sighed. _It's not like I've got much to hold it up. _

Abby was quick to assure her. "When a dress is fitted properly, that's not a problem, Bella. I promise, our seamstresses are the best, you won't have to tug on it once. You'll be perfectly comfortable."

_ Oh, yeah? Bet me. _

"Oh! Bella, honey, look! Look at this one! Look at the ruching! Oh, it's _beautiful_."

This went on for what Bella could've sworn was hours, and in the end she ended up heading into the dressing room with Abby and seven dresses–count'em, _seven. _

With her mother still looking at more.

Bella hated even having to change clothes for gym in front of the other girls in the locker room when no one was paying any attention to her, and the thought of changing in front of Abby was making her feel slightly sick.

_ Really, it's just a friggin' dress. I'm sure I can manage at least putting the thing on by myself. It's walking in it that's the problem._

The inside of the dressing room shocked her. It was huge, about the size of her room at home. There were three chairs in the room, which was another surprise. _Who on earth wants an audience when they get dressed?_ But the thing that surprised her the most was a folding screen in the corner. _There is actually a dressing room IN THE DRESSING ROOM! _

Abby's back was to her as she hung the dresses on a rack on the side wall. When she turned to face her she said, "You don't seem to be that into this, Bella. Not much of a shopper?"

Bella admitted, "No, not really. I couldn't even tell you the last time I wore a dress."

Abby grinned at her, trying to be reassuring. "They don't bite, I promise. Why don't we try this one first? Your mom seemed to like it the best. You just go ahead behind the screen, and I'll hand it to you when you're ready. There are hangers and shelves to put your clothes on."

Grateful for the privacy, Bella went behind the screen and quickly undressed. Abby handed her the gown around the screen, and she stepped into it. She looked down at herself and let out a breath._ This is so not me._

"Once you've got it on, come on out, and I'll zip you up. You can take a look at yourself in the mirrors in here before we go out to show your mom."

Bella stepped out, holding the gown up so she wouldn't trip, and turned around for Abby to zip her up. She looked at herself in the mirror with Abby standing behind her.

"Well? What do you think?"

The dress was floor length and strapless, and the sample was in bright, cherry red. Bella looked at herself critically in the mirror. "I don't think I'm a red dress kind of person."

Abby laughed and showed her the swatches the dress was available in. "These are the pinks it comes in."

_ Hmmm, Amaranth Pink, Cerise Pink, and Persian Rose. Why can't they make life simple and just say light pink, dark pink, and hot pink? _"I don't think I'm a pink person either, honestly. The royal blue is nice."

Smiling, Abby agreed. "To tell the truth, I'm not much of a pink girl either. Give me purple or blue any day."

Bella rounded on her like she'd found a soul sister. "Me, too!"

Subtly, Abby turned her attention back to the dress. "Forget about the color. What do you think of the design of the dress?"

Now a little more relaxed, Bella studied herself in the dress a little less critically. "At least it's not as fitted as some of the others. I like the higher, empire waist better and how it hangs loose from there. But I really had hoped for something shorter. I'm really clumsy. I guarantee you I would trip in this a dozen times before we even get to the church."

"Shall we go show your mom?"

Bella was turned partway around, looking at the back of the dress in the mirror. "Yeah, let's go." _Let's just get this over with so I can go home. _

They walked out with Bella holding the front of the dress up and looking down at the ground, on the look out for anything she could possibly trip over.

_ Not that I need there to actually be something to trip over. I can manage it just fine on my own._

Carefully, she stepped up on the dais and looked at her mother, who was standing next to the dais looking at her with her hands clasped in front of her face and gushing. "Oh, baby. I knew that dress would be beautiful on you. Look at you. You look so sophisticated. Turn around, let me get a good look. Oh, it's beautiful, honey. I just love it."

Bella looked at herself in the mirror, unconvinced. She thought the dress looked a little too sophisticated. A lot too sophisticated, actually. Abby showed her mom the pinks it came in, and they talked for a minute or two while Bella continued to look at herself, frowning.

_ It is better than the other ones, at least. I do kind of like the ruching, and I like the empire waist, but I really don't like it overall._

"Shall we try the next one then, Bella?"

The next dress was in a very shiny mauve pink, and Bella positively hated it the moment she saw it. In the first dress the ruching was tighter, only across the bust, and vertical. In this one, the folds of fabric were horizontal and wider, and she thought they just looked sloppy. The dress was very fitted from the hips up, and the skirt hung very narrow and to the ground. She looked at herself in the mirror. _I look like a stick figure. If I was ten years older and had curves... but I'm not, and I don't._

The next dresses weren't any better, and so far, the first dress was the one she disliked the least.

Her mother and Abby were looking at her up on the dais in the last of the dresses they had picked out. "I don't know. I can't decide. They're all so beautiful on you, honey."

"If I could make a suggestion, Ms. Swan. There's a dress I have in mind that I think would look great on Bella."

Bella mentally groaned. She'd thought this would be the last one, and she could go home and check to see if Edward had written yet. Her mother agreed eagerly, and the torture season continued.

Once back in the dressing room, Abby told Bella to wait a moment, and she'd be right back. Bella looked at herself in the mirror and tried to be impartial but failed. _What are they thinking? I look terrible in this thing. _

It was only a minute before Abby was back and saying, "I think this might be the winner, Bella. I've been thinking about it since you tried the first gown on."

Bella was trying to be patient, but she really did hate shopping. She turned around, and Abby unzipped her. Once behind the screen, Abby handed her the next–and God willing, the last–dress.

When Bella looked at the dress, she felt the first spark of interest she'd had all day. She held it up and took a closer look. This dress was almost like a younger, shorter version of the first one. The sample was in a beautiful cross between blue and purple. It had a subtle sweetheart neckline and an empire waste with tight, vertical ruching above it. The empire waist itself was a narrow ribbon with a small, flat bow in the center. There were two layers of fabric, which felt light as air. The top layer was very sheer and the same shade as the bottom layer. The dress hung loosely with the top layer an inch or two longer than the one beneath it and would probably come to just below her knees.

She really liked it.

"Bella? You OK back there, hon?"

_ Crap. How long have I been back here? _"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"How do you like it?"

Bella quickly slipped the dress on and stepped out for Abby to zip her up. She looked at herself in the mirror and could hardly believe her eyes.

_ I've got boobs!_

The dress hung on her perfectly, and the combination of the sweetheart neckline, empire waste, and ruching made her look like she had curves. The dress was just _comfortable._ She continued to look at herself in the mirror, spinning around, and actually smiling at her reflection, not taking her eyes off the mirror. "I like it... a lot. I like it a lot."

"Let's go see your mom, then."

As she walked out of the dressing room with Abby, Bella looked at her mom, smiling nervously and tucking her hair behind her ears.

_ Please let her like this one. _

But Bella was disappointed as she stepped up onto the dais. Her mom had raved about every one of the other dresses the minute she'd stepped out in them, but with this dress–the one Bella actually really liked–she didn't say a word. She didn't even get out of her seat to come and look at it closer; she just sat there quietly.

Bella looked at her mom in the mirror and felt her heart sinking at her lack of a reaction. Just as she was about to ask her what she thought, her mom finally spoke.

"We'll take it."

Bella spun around to her mother, nearly falling over, but before she could say anything her mother looked at her, smiling radiantly and with tears forming in in her eyes, and spoke again. "This is the only one to make _you_ smile. This is the dress."

Bella looked down at the dress, and holding the skirt out a bit she spun around, feeling like a little girl dressed up as Cinderella, before looking back to her mother. "Really?"

Renee came up and stood beside her, both of them looking at Bella's reflection in the mirror. "Absolutely. It's perfect on you, honey. It's you. Even the color is perfect. That's your color."

"But you wanted pink."

Renee stepped back and took Bella's hand, guiding her to spin around again.

"It's a bride's prerogative to change her mind. Just look how it floats around you when you spin around."

Abby, who had stepped back a bit, came forward again. "That really is a gorgeous color on you, Bella. And Renee, you can still have some pink. I think pale pink for the bouquet would be lovely with that color. There's enough purple in the blue that they'd go beautifully. Don't you think?" She held a swatch of pale pink fabric up to the dress to demonstrate.

"Oh, yes. That's beautiful. This is definitely the dress."

Renee held her cell phone up and took a picture of her as Bella stood looking at herself in the mirror, turning and watching the dress spin.

Bella smiled at her reflection; for the first time in her life she felt really, honestly pretty.

After dress shopping, Bella suggested they pick up a few movies, wanting to keep her mom occupied and not dwelling on Phil's being gone for the next week. Now, three movies and a dinner of Mexican take out later, she was finally lying curled up on her bed with Edward's latest letter and feeling the rest of the world fade away, leaving just the two of them.

.

.

_July 21, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I cannot tell you how relieved I was to receive your letter forgiving me my outburst with my Uncle Richard. My family has all assured me I was within my rights, but I confess that next to my mother's, it was your forgiveness I wished for the most. Uncle Richard, my Aunt Josephine, and cousin Timothy all left the house immediately, and we have not heard from them since nor do we care to. _

_I hope you will also forgive me for telling my cousins about you. I would never knowingly do anything to upset you, and if I offended you, I apologize. I can only say that when the thought occurred to me, it felt right. _

_I am sure you will find this funny. In my anger I tried to focus my thoughts on you to calm myself. At one point, I thought the worst of the disagreement was over, and while still thinking of you and your words of support, I let my guard down and let slip those very words. I told my uncle "to stick a sock in it," just as you told me to. _

Gasping for breath, Bella laughed so hard that she had to bury her face in her pillow to muffle the noise so her mother wouldn't come and ask her what was so funny. _He actually told his uncle to stick a sock in it! Oh my God, that is the funniest thing I have ever heard! I wish I could've been there and seen the look on his uncle's face! _When she stopped laughing enough to sit back up, tears were streaming down her cheeks and she wiped her face with the back of her hand, still laughing, out of breath, and holding her stomach which was sore from laughing so hard.

"He must've looked like a cartoon character with smoke coming from his ears."

.

.

_Once my cousins and I were alone, Mic asked me what that meant, and I had to admit I did not know. I told him I heard the expression from a friend. He, along with his brother and sister, took great delight in teasing me, and in the end, as I said, telling them everything felt right. _

_Needless to say, they did not believe me. _

_I wrote my last note to you in front of them, and they watched me put it in the hidden compartment of our grandfather's desk. They were surprised when it vanished, exactly as I said it would, but they still believed it to be some trick I was playing, very inappropriately under the circumstances. Laura and Tommy examined the drawer closely and were annoyed to not see how I had done it. In the end, I must admit I broke a promise to you and told them what you had told me of the end of the war, the assassination of the Czar, and the sinking of the Carpathia. I do not believe they truly believed me until the assassination of the Czar was reported in this morning's paper. I am deeply sorry for not keeping my word to you. I have no justification to offer other than my honest belief that it was vital they believe me, and I hope and pray, my sweet Bella, that you will once again forgive me. _

_My Uncle Michael, Aunt Louise, and my cousins left late this afternoon to return to New York City. Our parents had often talked of our going to visit them there many times, but the visit never happened for one reason or another. My cousins and I are resolved that it will not be put off again, and last night, Mic suggested to his father that my mother and I visit them next summer. We have not yet approached my mother, of course, as it is much too soon for her to be able to consider any such thing. My uncle supported our plan and will issue the invitation sometime early next year. I hope to make the visit in August. It is my hope that a trip will give her something to look forward to, something to raise her spirits. I am greatly looking forward to it myself. I have not been to the seaside in many years, and I hope we will have the opportunity to go bathing, although it will be difficult. Mic is in a wheelchair. He contracted Polio two years ago and lost the use of his legs. It will not be possible to maneuver his_ _chair on the beach, but I am confident that between my uncle, Tommy, and myself, we will be able to manage something. Tommy is only 13, but he is very tall and very strong for his age. To see him, you would assume he was nearer 16. Indeed, Mic himself is very strong in his upper body. I do not believe I have ever seen anything so amazing. Bella, I wish you could have seen him. He is able to maneuver the stairs on his own, with very little help–only getting out of and back into his chair. His refusal to let the loss of the use of his legs defeat him is truly inspirational. _

_I am very worried for my mother. She and my Aunt Louise are very close, and Mother seemed to have rallied on Monday with her arrival. I was greatly relieved, but by Tuesday she had withdrawn into silence again. She does not speak at all unless directly spoken to, and even then I cannot draw more than three or four words from her. She barely eats, and she has not touched her knitting or her books or magazines since my father's death. She spends most of her time upstairs in her room, only coming down when we have visitors, and when she does sit in the parlor, she stares at the chair where my father sat. She and my father used to enjoy listening to me play the piano for them, but now I am almost afraid to make any noise of any kind around her. She looks like she might shatter at the slightest sound. Neither of us has been to the hospital since my father's death. She is unable to bear leaving the house, and I am unwilling to leave her alone. _

_I am quickly coming to detest the color black, and I hope to never see it again. My father's attorney wishes for me to see him soon to draft my own will, and I am strongly tempted to put in it that I expressly forbid anyone to wear black for me. What is your favorite color? I will ask that they wear that instead. I hope it is pink. I would enjoy looking down upon my family and friends all attired in pink at my funeral._

_I am glad to hear that the White Sox are still winning, but I have never heard of the Houston Astros. Astros is a very odd name for a team, I wonder why they would chose it. Does it have some significance? The Brooklyn Robins were once called the Dodgers. They have a habit of changing names every so often. Is it the same team, do you know?_

_Thank you for what you were able to tell me about my grandson and his family. I am not surprised you were unable to dissuade him from giving the desk to you. We Masen men can be very stubborn when we are determined. I am glad he appears happy. I wonder what persuaded him to move to Phoenix. Work perhaps? I admit I am glad my other grandson and my granddaughter still live in Chicago, and that he is moving back as well. I do not like it when family moves away. It happens too much nowadays. Mic and I were as close as brothers when they lived here in Chicago, and I miss him very much. It is a very odd feeling to know of my grandchildren at only seventeen. I cannot thank you enough. It is comforting to know my family will go on after I am gone, and that they will be happy. I feel as if I am always either thanking you or begging your forgiveness. You have given me so much, I wish there was something I could give to you._

_The song you sent me was beautiful. I cannot help but feel it almost applies to us. "Far across the distance, and spaces between us, you have come to show you go on, near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on." Who has ever traveled across a farther distance than we have? There was a motion picture short made almost immediately following the sinking starring an actress who had actually been on board. I remember the movie only vaguely, and I do not remember the name or the actress. I do not believe she ever made another movie afterward. If I remember correctly, in the movie she is reunited with her parents, who had thought her to have been lost, and she recounts to them the night of the sinking. It was only a short, and I had completely forgotten it. I am surprised I remember it at all. I remember my mother thought it in very poor taste to exploit the disaster, but she relented as it was starring someone who had actually been on board. She felt as an actual survivor was recounting the event, it was acceptable. Please do not think I disapprove of your going to see the exhibits retrieved from the site. (Please do not think I do not believe you, but I still have difficulty comprehending that mankind will one day be able to do such a thing.) I see it as much the same as my mother saw the movie. The way you explained it, it seems as it is being done in a way that expresses what those on board endured that night, as if they are having a chance to tell their stories, as the actress in the film told hers. They are being remembered. What can we ask for more than to be remembered once we are gone? There is one thing about which I am confused, though. As you know of the sinking, why you would ask why we sailed on a different ship?_

_Did you find a dress for your mother's wedding? I am surprised you do not like shopping. I believe all the other girls I know would enjoy shopping for a new dress. _

_I have a request I would like to ask of you, but I am afraid you will think me too forward. My father had a pocket locket in which he kept a lock of my mother's hair. He carried it with him always. I wish more than anything that you could be here with me, or that I could be with you in your time, but as that can never be, what I would wish for next would be to have a lock of your hair. A small piece of you that I might hold in my hand and keep with me always. _

_Bella, for someone who says she does not have a way with words, reading your words is without fail the highest point of my day. Please do not ever doubt that. Your friendship is the most important one of my life, and I, too, feel that our friendship is, that you are, the best thing to have ever happened to me. I have never in my life looked forward to anything as I have looked forward to receiving your next letter these past weeks. Please write to me as soon as you are able. I am anxious to know what "stick a sock in it" means, also "ripped him a new one" and "I Googled it." You really do have the oddest expressions in your time, Bella. I remain, _

_Your friend,_

_Edward _

_._

_._

_ He wants a lock of my hair. Edward wants a lock of my hair. My Edward wants a lock of my hair. A lock of my hair... My Edward... wants... a lock... of... my... hair!_

Bella sat on her bed shaking, her heart pounding. No matter how many times she read it, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She sat immobile, paralyzed for approximately two minutes before springing up from her bed and racing from her bedroom to the small spare room to find her mother's craft supplies.

"... Silk flowers. Hot glue. Cross Stich. Knitting. Pastels. Where the hell is the ribbon? Scissors. Paper for scrap booking."

_ Scissors! Wait, I need scissors!_

"Ow! God friggin…. Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Bella was madly digging through her mother's abandoned hobby supplies without watching what she was grabbing hold of, and she cut her finger on a craft knife that the cover had fallen off of. Assuming it was even put away with the cover on it in the first place. The cut didn't appear too deep, but it really was bleeding quite a bit, and she felt herself start to sway.

_ Ugh, you would think with how many times I've cut myself, I'd get over the sight of blood._

Holding her breath, she hurried to the bathroom on weak legs and wrapped a towel around her bleeding finger, holding it tightly. She sat down on the floor, leaned the side of her face against the coolness of the tub, closed her eyes, and breathed through her mouth slowly and deeply as she waited for the dizzy, sick feeling to pass.

"Bella? Are you OK, baby?"

She startled a little at the sound of her mother's voice. "Yeah. Just cut my finger."

Her mother opened the door and came into the bathroom. "Let me see."

Some mothers might have panicked at the sight of their daughter, pale and half lying on the bathroom floor, but after sixteen years Renee was used to her daughter accidentally hurting herself and her reaction to the sight of blood. She held Bella's hand up and gently eased the towel off to see the cut. "Hmm. I don't think you need stitches. There's an awful lot of blood on the towel though, but it seems to have stopped already." Laying Bella's hand down, she got the first aid kit out. As she was putting an antibacterial bandage on Bella's finger after carefully cleaning the cut, she asked how she had cut herself this time.

Bella's eyes were still closed, but they sprung open. _Crap. Think. Think. Close to the truth. Stay close to the truth._ "On a knife. I wanted… an apple. I was going to cut myself up an apple."

"Uh huh, but you cut yourself up instead? Really, honey. You've got to be more careful."

Bella closed her eyes again and sighed. _I'm not the one who didn't put their craft knife away correctly._

"All good now?"

She sat up slowly in case the room started to spin, but she was getting better now, and her mom helped her up. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry I woke you."

Her mom was putting the first aid kit away. "Oh, you didn't wake me, honey. I was on the phone with Phil. Great news, they won today."

"Oh. That's… that's great. Tell him I said congratulations."

"Are you sure you're OK, honey? You still look pretty white."

Bella forced a smile, but didn't tempt fate by nodding her head. She was still weak and a little dizzy, but the nausea was nearly gone. She took a deep breath. "I'm sure. I'm good. I just need sugar. I'll just take my apple to my room."

"Use that special apple slicer/corer thing I got at that cooking show. I got it for you."

Bella walked slowly to the kitchen and got an apple out of the bowl on the counter and found "The-Special-So-Bella-Won't-Cut-Herself-Apple-Corer-Slicer-Thing" in the drawer next to "The-Special-So-Bella-Won't-Cut-Herself-Bagel-Holder-Thing".

_ It's like the safety scissors in Kindergarten all over again._

At their desk, Bella sat eating her apple and rereading Edward's letter.

_ I still can't believe he told his uncle to stick a sock in it. How am I going to explain what "rip him a new one" means? I doubt any of the girls his mother would approve of would ever say something like that. _

_ I don't understand why he seems so surprised I wondered why they didn't sail on the Titanic after all. That seems like a normal thing to wonder about. _

_ I'm glad he seems to think the White Sox kept winning from then till now. I didn't have the heart to tell him the World Series they won four years ago in 2005 was their first since the one they won last year in 1917 or about the scandal they'll be involved in next year. I wonder if I should explain where the Astros got their name? If he has "difficulty comprehending" we can go to the Titanic on the bottom of the ocean, he'll never believe me about astronauts. _

_ I'm really glad he thinks it was his grandson who lived here and was just moving back. No way was I going to tell him his son had just died so soon after his father died. His son... I was in _his son's _home_.

Bella closed her eyes and smiled in amazement at the small connection between them. No, she'd never meet Edward himself, but she had met his grandson and had stood in his son's home. She'd met someone who had met him. Someone who had actually touched him, who had known him and probably sat in his lap, someone who had put his arms around him and hugged him.

_ He wants a lock of my hair._

Popping the last piece of apple in her mouth, Bella took the plate to the kitchen, rinsed it off, and put it in the drainer.

_ I'm worried about his mother, though. I'll have to see what I can find out about helping someone who's grieving. He's grieving too, of course, but for his mother it's different. Especially back then. He mentioned the color black, do they still do that whole dress in black for a year in mourning thing? _

Back in the spare room, Bella found some ribbon behind the cross stitch pattern books she saw earlier, got the scissors, and put the stupid cover back on the stupid craft knife.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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_ "Edward_…._" _

"Who are you?"

_"Edward_…._" _

It was dark. He looked all around but couldn't see a thing. He didn't know where he was. His heart was pounding, but it was out of excitement. He wasn't frightened. He didn't know where he was, and he knew he wasn't alone, but he knew he was safe.

_"Edward_…._" _

"Who are you?"

_"You know who I am, Edward."_

He did. He did know who she was. He'd never heard her voice before, but he knew he'd have recognized the sound of it anywhere. It was like bells. Bells, and birds chirping, and rain falling… and music. Her voice was like the most beautiful music he'd ever heard. The most beautiful music he could ever hear.

"Bella? Are you… are you here?"

Laughter. Light, joyous laughter. If he'd thought the sound of her voice was amazing, the sound of her laughter was even better.

_"Yes, Edward. I'm here. I'm here, my love. I'm here."_

Edward ran toward the sound of her voice, looking around frantically in every direction, but he couldn't find her; he still could not see a thing. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard he could hear it. "_My love," _she'd called him, "_My love." _

"Bella? I love you. Please, love, I cannot find you. Bella, please, where are you?"

He felt an arm wrap around him from behind and felt as much as heard her voice whisper in his ear.

_"Stop running, my love. You don't need to run. I'm right here." _

Her hand slid up his chest and came to rest over his pounding heart.

_ "I've always been right here. With you." _

Edward felt himself harden as he felt her lips brushing against his ear, her tongue running down to his neck, her lips leaving a trail of wet, hot kisses back up to his ear before nibbling on it gently and pulling it into her mouth.

"Bella… I love you."

_"I love you, too, Edward. I love you, too."_

Her hand was tracing circles on his suddenly bare chest, and when she ran her nails over his nipple his head dropped back, and he moaned. "Please…. Bella, please… let me..."

She whispered, _"Yes," _and he turned around, pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to hers. He ran his hand up into her hair. He couldn't see her face, but he did see long strands of dark chestnut hair sliding through his fingers. He held her close with his other arm and grew harder when he felt her skin against his own. Her arms were around him, holding him as tightly as he was holding her. Her hands were running up and down his back, up into his hair.

He could feel her, he could hear her, but she suddenly felt… less solid, and she sounded… farther away.

_"Edward_…._" _

"Bella… I love you."

_"And I love you." _

She sounded farther away still. He could still feel her warmth, but it was more like a warm breeze against his skin than a warm person in his arms. "Please… don't leave me…."

_ "Where would I go? I am yours Edward, as you are mine. I'm still right here. With you." _

Edward felt the slightest touch against his chest, over his heart.

_ "I have always been with you, and I always will be. " _

Edward could feel his night clothes against his skin again. "Bella, where are you? Where did you go? Why can I not find you?"

_"You will. When it's time, you will. Wait for me, my love. I promise, you will find me."_

"Bella, don't leave me!"

Edward awoke with a jolt, reaching out for someone who wasn't there, calling out for someone who couldn't be there. He was out of breath, his heart was racing, and he was hard. He was a typical 17-year-old boy, and although that was hardly the first time he'd dreamed of a girl's skin against his own and far from the first time he'd woken up in such a state as a result, it was the first night he'd dreamed of Bella. He sat in his bed remembering his dream; he sighed, shifted in bed slightly, and grimaced. His body _definitely _remembered the dream. He felt like he should be embarrassed, like he should feel that dreaming of her like... _like that _was betraying her trust in him. But he did not. He loved her, and this was all he would ever have of her.

As he lay back down and slid his hand beneath his pajama bottoms, the part of the dream he remembered most vividly–_OK, the second most vivid–_was the way her long chestnut hair felt sliding through his fingers. Wrapping his fingers around himself, Edward imagined it was Bella's hand stroking him. With that image in mind it did not take long until Edward could feel himself nearing his climax, and his eyes closed and his mouth fell open as he inhaled sharply. Turning his head to the side, he buried his face in his pillow to muffle the sound of the scream that wanted to break free a moment later as he came more powerfully than ever before.

Lying still and catching his breath afterward, Edward felt both sated and saddened as his body cooled and his heart rate returned to normal. He wondered, not for the first time, the purpose of being granted such a miracle, of being shown a girl whom he could love but could never have.

As he wiped his hand on one of the old handkerchiefs he kept in the table beside his bed for just such occasions–this was not the first time they'd been needed–the sight of Bella's long, dark hair sliding through his fingers from his dream replayed through his mind, and he could feel his body beginning to respond again when a sudden thought occurred to him.

_ But I do not even know what color…_

Before he could complete the thought Edward's eyes snapped to their desk, and he jumped out of bed. In seconds he was sitting at their desk in wonder and holding a lock of long chestnut hair tied with a purplish blue ribbon in one hand and a short note in the other.

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_Dearest Edward,_

_Sorry, I don't like pink. My favorite colors are blue and purple. What are yours?_

_I did get a dress for the wedding. It's almost the exact same color as this ribbon. _

_As you can see, I don't think you were being too forward, but then girls are a bit more forward in 2009 than they were in 1918. Is it appropriate for a girl to ask a boy for a lock of his hair, or is that considered improper? _

_Yours always,_

_Bella_

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"She has long brown hair."

For a long time, Edward sat at their desk holding the lock of her hair she'd sent him, feeling it against his fingers. He wrapped it around his fingers and raised his hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the strands.

_ Strawberries. She smells like strawberries._

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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So, a little bit of a lemon drop there at the end... What did you think of Edward's revelation? Drop me a note and let me now.

Historical notes –

"_EX-CZAR OF RUSSIA KILLED BY ORDER OF URAL SOVIET" Was one of ten front page articles in the New York Times on July 21, 1918. It did say the execution was the 16th, when it was really the 17th just after midnight, and that the former Empress and heir were taken to a place of safety. No reference was made to the Duchesses._

The Dodgers were established in 1883 in Brooklyn and were known by many nicknames before settling on _The Dodgers_ in 1932. They were originally known as the Brooklyn Atlantics, and then also the Bridegrooms, Grooms, Superbas, Robins, and Trolley Dodgers. In 1916 and 1920, known as the Robins, they won the league pennant but lost the World Series both times. _Trolley Dodgers_ was a Manhattanite slur for residents of Brooklyn from the late 19th Century until the mid 20th based on their number of trolley lines in Brooklyn. The Dodgers nickname first arose in 1891 when their field was bordered on two sides by trolley tracks, but it didn't become their official name until 1911 when they were called the Trolley Dodgers, which was shortened to Dodgers in 1913. The name was changed again in 1914 to the Robins in honor of new manager Wilbert Robinson. They would be known as the Robins for the rest of Edward's human life, not reverting back to the Dodgers until 1932 when Wilbert Robinson retired. - Per Wikipedia and

_Saved From the Titanic_ was a silent film short shot in the United States in less than two weeks and released on May 14, 1912 – a whole 29 days after the sinking. Its running time was 10 minutes. The film stared Dorothy Gibson, an actual Titanic survivor, who co-wrote the script. To add to the authenticity, she reportedly wore the same clothes she had on at the time of the sinking–she'd been playing bridge at the time. She, her mother, and two others–men–from the bridge game boarded lifeboat no. 7, which was the first to be launched. There was some criticism over commercializing the tragedy, but it drew large audiences and good reviews. Gibson was still traumatized by the sinking and was said to have burst into tears during filming. In the movie, her character's parents and fiance are shown waiting for news of her after hearing of the tragedy. She arrives home, and narrates the events of the sinking in the form of a flash back. The actress later stated her decision to participate was to "pay tribute to those who gave their lives on that awful night." It is possible that studio producer Jules Brulatour, who she was having an affair with, persuaded her it was a huge opportunity for her career; however, it was the last movie she ever made. Saved From the Titanic is considered a lost film as all known copies were destroyed in a fire less than two years after it was released. All that remain are a few production stills. – per Wikipedia.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks to my two PTB betas for this chapter, Thir13enth and Trilby97!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_ Edward_….

Bella awoke Monday morning slowly reaching out her hand, as if trying to catch hold of the remnants of a dream she'd already forgotten. For a moment, before she was fully awake, she thought she felt her hand brush against something solid and warm. So sure of it was that she jumped up, suddenly frightened, thinking there was someone in her room, but when she looked around her room she was alone. Her eyes rested on their desk and she felt herself smile.

_Well, not really alone._

Her hand drifted up to run through her hair, feeling the now short strands at the back of her neck. As she played with the ends, her smile widened. _He asked me for a lock of my hair. Elizabeth Bennett, Mary Ann Dashwood, Anne Elliot... Eat your hearts out. _She covered her mouth with her other hand as her smile turned to laughter before looking back at their desk and biting her lip. _Has he gotten it yet? Has he... _

In a heartbeat, Bella had already jumped out of bed and hurried to their desk. Holding her breath, she opened the hidden compartment and felt a lump in her throat. Her eyes fell shut, and she took a deep breath before reaching out slowly, almost afraid that if she moved too fast she'd wake up from a dream and into a world where Edward had never existed. The moment her fingers touched the lock of bronze hair tied with an emerald green ribbon, her face split into a huge smile.

_It's his. It's part of him. A _real_ part of him._

Bella picked up the lock of Edward's hair reverently, as if it was the most precious, fragile treasure in the world, and ran it lightly across her lips, smiling as it tickled slightly.

_Good morning, Edward._

There was a small slip of paper in the drawer and she picked it up, still holding the lock of his hair to her lips.

_._

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_Thank you._

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_._

She closed her eyes again, still smiling. The way she felt right now, she didn't think she'd ever stop smiling. She was holding a piece of Edward. She was really touching him. "You're welcome, Edward. Thank you."

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. . . . . . . . . . .

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"…we all need energy to function, and we get this energy from the foods we eat. The most efficient way for cells to harvest the energy stored in food is through cellular respiration. Now, there are two types of cell respiration. Aerobic respiration requires oxygen in order to generate energy. Can anyone tell me the other type? Bella?"

Bella had been staring at her notes and absently playing with the short strands of hair at the back of her neck. She looked up when her teacher called her name. The smile had not left her face once all day.

There were several hands up, but Mrs. Brewster was approaching her desk, obviously thinking she had not been paying attention.

"Anaerobic."

Her teacher looked pleasantly surprised, relieved, and nodded her head. "Very good. Anaerobic respiration does not require oxygen and is mainly used by bacteria that live in environments devoid of oxygen…."

In truth, Bella had only been half listening, and she straightened up in her chair, trying to at least appear focused on the lesson. She had spent the entire day smiling, daydreaming about Edward, and playing with the short strands of hair hidden at the back of her neck, and the day had flown by. This last class, however, was dragging on forever, and she glanced at the clock once again. _Still fifteen more minutes. _

The only thing that had managed to dampen her mood all day was thinking about how worried Edward was about his mother. Bella didn't know the first thing about helping someone who was grieving, and she was anxious to get home to see what she could find online.

Once the bell finally rang, Bella gathered her things and hurried out the door to her locker. Running down the stairs as quickly as could while trying not to trip and take anyone out, she saw Jason looking at posters on the wall supporting the baseball team, and she remembered Phil's game from the other night. She still didn't know why his team lost if they tied the game up; she was sure it went into overtime…. or extra time…. or something. _ He'd know. _

"Jason? Hey. Hi."

Visibly startled, Jason jumped and looked at her like she was the last person he ever expected to see.

_ Jeez, we do go to the same school, you know. _ He only looked at her for a moment before licking his lips and rubbing the back of his neck while looking around nervously. He stumbled over his words. "Bella. Uh, hi. Hi. I… I haven't seen you in a while….. How… how's…. everything?"

_ Peachy. Jerk.  
><em>"Good. Great. Everything's great. How's everything with you?" Bella nodded her head at the posters on the wall and asked about how the team looked this season.

"What? Oh… oh, um, um, yeah, the… the team… the team is good. Yeah, good. Did, did you, um… I mean, I… I was just, um, looking at the… um….. The Spring Dance is coming up soon. It's, it's, um… it's… girl's choice… this year."

Bella looked at some of the other posters on the wall she hadn't noticed, and sure enough there was a poster for the dance next to the one for the baseball team. She really wasn't interested in the dance. Honestly, she really wasn't interested in talking to Jason, period, but she wanted her question answered.

"Yeah, it is. Hey, Jason, there was something I wanted to ask you."

For a moment his mouth fell open slightly, then his face lit up like he'd just won the lottery. Bella turned around and looked behind her expecting to see Brittany Logan or some other girl standing there, but there was no one. _Weird. So, anyway… _

"So, my mom and I went to Phil's game the other night, and there was something I didn't understand."

Blinking twice, Jason stared at her, not saying anything.

"Right. So... I wanted to ask you about it."

When he didn't speak after several long moments, Bella continued.

"If that's OK?"

Finally, Jason snapped out of it, running his hand through his hair nervously and looking down at the ground. He took a deep breath before looking back up at her. "You wanted to ask me… about baseball?"

_ What is up with him? He looks like someone just told him his dog died._ "Um, yeah. I mean, if that's OK?" Just because Bella didn't feel the same way about him she once had didn't mean she wanted to see him miserable. And the last time they talked, when Mrs. Brewster kept her after class, he had seemed worried about her. Of course, he'd also tried to use her to get to Phil. But, still... Even after she'd said no, he'd still looked concerned about her. "Jason? You OK?"

Fidgeting uncomfortably, Jason adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he answered and gave her an obviously forced smile. "Oh, yeah. Fine. Yeah, I'm fine. So, um, what did you want to ask me… about baseball?"

Bella explained the last out of the game, trying to remember everything and hoping she got everything right.

"The run doesn't count because the batter got out going to first. If there are two outs, the batter has to reach first base safely, or the run doesn't count."

"But the run scored before the batter got out."

"Doesn't matter. The run doesn't count if the batter doesn't reach first safe."

"Oh. That's… that's stupid."

The corners of Jason's lips twitched seemingly reluctantly, and he laughed a little, but like his smiles, it was forced, and he tugged on the strap of his back pack again.

_ Does he have rocks in there or something?_

"Yeah, well… rules are rules. So, um… have you, um, have you… asked… anyone yet?"

She looked at him, confused. "Asked anyone what?"

He gestured to the poster for the dance. "To the Spring Dance."

Surprised, Bella laughed. "Me? _Me?_ Dance? Um, no. No, definitely not. No that would be... that would be bad."

"I don't think it'd be bad. I think it'd be fun."

The way Jason was looking at her made her think she had something on her face, and she tried to rub her hand over her face surreptitiously.

"I'm a bit accident prone. Someone could get hurt."

"Don't be silly. I'm sure I, I mean, I'm sure… whoever you went with… could… keep you from hurting yourself."

Still laughing, Bella shook her head saying, "Believe me, he'd need body armor. Or to be made of marble or something." She looked out the windows. "Oh, crap. I missed my bus."

Jason's smile turned genuine as saw the buses pulling away. "I'm sorry I made you late. Don't worry about it though, my car is in the lot. I can take you home."

Bella was hesitant. "You're sure you don't mind? I don't want to make you late for practice. I wouldn't want to be the reason you had to run laps."

"Yeah, I'm sure, come on. Practice doesn't start for another hour. I've got plenty of time." As they turned and walked down the stairs and out of the building, Jason took her book bag from her. "I got the new CD from that band you like."

Arching her eyebrow, Bella looked at him skeptically. "Why? You said you didn't like them." Grinning as if he was very pleased with something, Jason shrugged his shoulders, looking straight ahead. "They're not that bad. They grow on you."

They talked easily on the drive to her house, and as Bella was getting out of the car, Jason called to her. "You should think about going to the dance. Just… come out… hang out… just… have fun." "Yeah. Fun. Tell that to the kids I maim."

Bella let herself into the house wondering what was up with him, but soon put him out of her head. She needed to see what she could find out about supporting someone who was grieving. After turning the computer on, she went to the kitchen and took some chicken breasts out of the freezer to thaw in a bowl of water for dinner. From behind her, she heard a chirping noise and looked around before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "What? Oh, Mom…."

_ Right. Grieving Process_..._ OK_..._ Grieving and Healing…_ _ Stages of Grief…_ _Grief Process… Coping…_ _ OK, let's try searching "Help someone who is grieving." 8,730,000 results…_

Bella blew some hair out of her face, clicked on the first link, and started taking notes. By the time her mother came home, she was so focused on her reading–with nearly three pages covered with notes–that she didn't hear her come in.

"Hey, baby. How was your day?" Renee walked into the kitchen and got a can of soda before returning to the living room and leaning against the arch between the two rooms, watching her daughter taking notes for school. She hadn't even looked up from her work.

"What class are you working on, Honey?" Renee shook her head, smiling at her daughter. "Bella?"

Bella's only response was to mumble something under her breath about not saying I know how you feel, and Renee approached her daughter, laughing. "How I feel about what? Bella?" Renee put her hand on her daughter's shoulder, causing Bella to scream, jump out of the chair, and throw her notes in the air.

Seeing her mother, Bella leaned against the computer desk with her hand pressed over her frantically pounding heart trying to catch her breath. "Jeez, mom! You scared the crap out of me."

"Not that I don't want you to focus on your school work, Honey, I do, but maybe you could relax just a bit. I've been talking to you since I got home, and you didn't even look up. What are you studying that's so fascinating?"

Bella jumped again, trying to turn the monitor off before her mother could see what was on it, but Renee was standing closer to it than she was. "Supporting a grieving person?" Renee looked at Bella, surprised and guilty. "I know I'm a bit down about Phil being gone, but I'm not _that_ bad, am I?" She'd been biting her thumb nail while trying to come up with a plausible reason why she would be looking up information on grieving, and for half of a second, Bella debated grabbing onto that idea and running with it, but the worried expression in her mother's eyes shot it down. She hurried to try to reassure her mother. "What? No. No, Mom, of course not. No, it's, it's just…."

Relieved, Renee asked, "Research paper?"

A miniature image of herself popped into Bella's head, jumping up and down and screaming, "_YES! A research paper! That's good! Go with that!" _Not wanting to have to look at her mother, Bella bent over and picked up the papers that she dropped as she nodded and answered her, "Um, yeah. Yeah, just a, just a short one. Extra credit. For Mr. McNeil."

As she straightened back up holding her papers against her chest, Bella tucked her hair behind her ears. Her eyes darted to her bedroom door, but her mother was looking for something in the drawer and didn't notice the quick glance. Bella asked if barbeque chicken and fries sounded good for dinner, and Renee answered distractedly, "Yeah, sounds fine. Have you seen the charger for my cell phone?"

"Kitchen counter. Your phone is charging now. It was chirping when I got home." As Bella watched her mother go to the kitchen, she bit her lip and subconsciously crossed her fingers. She wanted to look through her notes and write to Edward, and she wanted to be sure her mother wouldn't come looking for her for some mother-daughter bonding time while Phil was away. _If she's calling him_,_ I'd have to spontaneously combust to get her attention. _

Once she heard her mom talking like a teenager with her first crush, she let out a breath and called out to her, "I'll be in my room!"

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_Dear Edward,_

_I got the lock of your hair, thank you. It's incredible to actually have part of you here with me. I know that was something that was done often in your time, but we don't do it anymore. I was afraid it was inappropriate for a girl to ask a boy. Your time is so much stricter than mine on boys' roles and girls' roles. Today, it doesn't really matter. Actually, there is a dance at my school coming up, and it's "girl's choice", the girl asks the boy._

_I'm not upset that you told your cousins about me or that you told them what I told you. I trust you. There is nothing to forgive. I'm just glad they didn't have you committed. Just remember, if they get you a nice new jacket that ties and buckles in the back and lock you up in a padded room, there's not really anything I can do. _

"_Stick a sock in it" is a rude way to tell someone to be quiet. If you stick a sock in something that makes noise, you muffle the sound. When I read that you actually told your uncle that I completely cracked up. My stomach ached, and I couldn't breathe. If you Google something, you look it up on the computer._

_I think the idea of you and your mother going to visit your family in New York City is great. I've been to the West Coast, but I've never been farther east than Albuquerque. That's in New Mexico, btw. The town where my dad lives in Washington is on the coast, but it's not what my idea of a beach should be. Beaches should be sunny and hot. Forks is neither. Ever. I am going to visit him in Forks for Easter. My mother thinks I'm crazy. She doesn't like it there at all. It's always wet and cold. He usually takes me somewhere else for vacation, somewhere warm, but I'm beginning to see how unfair I've been to him. He's always taken me somewhere I would like, but I've never asked him where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. Forks is his home, he's lived there all his life, his parents and grandparents lived there all of their lives, and all of his friends are there. I should at least make an attempt to meet his friends and get to know them. I will have to buy some new clothes. What I wear here in Phoenix in the middle of winter won't be near warm enough for Forks in spring. More shopping. Fabulous. _

_There has been a lot of research done into how people grieve in the last 91 years. I tried to find out as much as I could, but we deal with grieving after a loss much differently than you do, so I don't know if this will help or not. Most articles I found did say that it is normal for there to be highs and lows. One actually compared grieving to a roller coaster, with ups and downs. (Do you have roller coasters yet? They kind of make me a little sick.) It also said that just like a roller coaster, the worst ups and downs were in the beginning, and they lessen after a while. Everything I found seemed to agree that there is no normal, there is no right or wrong. There may be nothing you can do or say, she may just need you to sit quietly with her not talking. Just squeeze her hand or put your arm around her. If she mentions your father, let her talk. Don't let anyone tell her what she should or shouldn't feel. No one knows what she has lost more than you do, but even your loss is different from hers. It is important to try to get her to eat, though. She needs to eat and sleep, and she needs to get exercise. Does she garden? Can you and she go for a walk, or is she expected to not leave the house? We don't really do the whole wearing black all the time thing. Some people refuse to wear black at all after someone dies. I hope that doesn't sound disrespectful to you. They're remembering and celebrating the person's life, rather than mourning their death. You said you had gotten a lot of flowers, does your mother have a favorite flower? Maybe you can try to keep some around the house. Or flowers in her favorite color. Have you asked her if she would like you to play for her? If you play while she is in another room, could she hear you? That way, it could be up to her if she joins you or not. I wish I could hear you play._

_I'm very sorry about Mic. I hope you'll be happy to know that we have a vaccine to prevent polio now. And there are laws and a lot of organizations to help people with disabilities today. There are even sports leagues. There was an article in the newspaper recently about the University of Arizona Women's Wheelchair Basketball Team. Go Lady Wildcats!_

_I'm confused why you would be confused why I would wonder why you didn't sail on the Titanic. If your mother didn't persuade your father, why did he change your plans?_

_I don't know if I should tell you where the name Astros comes from. You'd never believe me._

_Don't be silly, Edward. Of course the Dodgers aren't the same team today they were in 1918. Ninety one years is a long time. I'm sure they have all new players by now._

_Your friend always,_

_Bella _

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After finishing Bella's letter, Edward sat with his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Her letter lay in front of him on their desk. _Very funny, Bella. Very funny._ He wiped his eyes as picked her letter back up. His laughter faded, and he found it hard to swallow passed the lump in his throat. _They can prevent polio. They can PREVENT POLIO. Can... can they also cure it? Will… will Mic one day... Might he one day… walk again? _

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his left hand in absolute amazement. _Why did I not think of this before? Of course. We have made such strides, what more might have been learned by her time? If they can go to the ocean floor, what else can they do?_ He stood up and walked to his window with her letter still in his hand. He looked up at the nearly full moon peaking out through the clouds, thinking about his father. Looking back down at her letter, he felt his eyes fill with tears.

_ What else can they prevent? What else can they cure? Might Father... In her time… might he... Might there have been something that could have been done? Her world is so advanced. They can do so much. Certainly, no one would die from a simple flu. She has said how every different her world is from mine. Her world seems like a place of wonder. What must she think of mine? We must seem so… _backward_… so…_ limited_… to her_.

Walking back to their desk, Edward felt a heavy sadness he had never before felt after reading one of her letters.

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"Good morning, Mr. Masen."

"Nellie, good morning, thank you. Did I hear the telephone?" Edward held the coffee she handed him up to his face, inhaling the aroma. He would never be fond of mornings, but having a cup of Nellie's coffee to look forward to first thing made them tolerable.

"Yes, sir. Dr. Cullen telephoned from the hospital. He apologized for the early hour, but he had very good news for you that he was sure you would want to hear as soon as possible. He said one of the patients you had been visiting is being discharged this afternoon, a man named Peter Lord. He said the young man would like to see you again before he leaves if at all possible. Dr. Cullen said he thought you might like that, as well."

Edward's eyes were closed in appreciation of both simple things like a perfect cup of morning coffee and great things like Peter Lord's miraculous recovery. "Perfect, Nellie, as always. Yes. I would quite like to see him before he leaves. I will go immediately after church. I am sure one of my aunts can come and stay with my mother."

He sat in silence for a few minutes thinking about the young soldier and how far he had come. "You would be amazed, Nellie, to see the progress he has made. When he was first admitted to the hospital, his prognosis was not very good." He was silent for a moment, remembering what all the young man had endured. He said quietly, "It is nothing short of a miracle that he is so improved as to be able to return home."

Nellie was busy measuring ingredients into a large mixing bowl and had her back to him. "I am glad the young man is recovered, sir." She turned to face him and gave him a small, proud smile. There was a streak of flour on her cheek. "You must be pleased. If I may say so, sir, Maggie and I are both very proud and grateful for the help you give our boys. You are doing a very great service." Embarrassed at being praised so sincerely for doing so little, Edward looked down at the table, unable meet the undeniable pride and gratitude shining from Nellie's bright blue eyes, gratitude he did not feel he deserved. "I don't do so very much at all, truly. These men have endured… unspeakable horrors. Others have given their lives. What do I give? A few hours? A few dollars? It is nothing." He heard Nellie let out a small, stifled gasp, and he went to her in concern, squeezing her shoulder gently. He could kick himself for his stupidity.

_ Brilliant, Edward. Remind her of the "unspeakable horrors" her brother is facing over there. Idiot. _

They were silent for a few minutes while Nellie collected herself, lifting the hem of her apron to wipe her eyes. "Please forgive me, Nellie. I was very thoughtless to speak so. I am very sorry."

Some of her long blond hair had fallen loose from its bun, and she stepped aside to pin it back again. She wiped her eyes again as she spoke. "I just pray this horrid war will be over soon."

Edward filled a glass of water for her and handed her his handkerchief for her eyes. "I have every confidence it will."

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"Thank you again for telephoning, Dr. Cullen. I am glad to have had the chance to see Peter and wish him well before he returned home."

"You are most welcome, Edward. He was glad to see you as well and to thank you personally." The two men were walking down the hallway to Dr. Cullen's office. "You and your mother have been missed at the hospital. May I ask, how is your mother doing?"

Upon entering the office, Dr. Cullen crossed the room and sat behind his desk. Edward's eyes roamed around the office for a moment without answering. He had only been in here once before, when he used the telephone one afternoon, and he had not taken notice of the doctor's collections then. There were several display cases, one of which contained several wooden cylinders, some were whole and approximately a foot long, others were in two or three pieces. They looked to be about an inch and a half in diameter. Some had fluted ends, like a trumpet, and others were the same diameter from end to end. They ranged in color from light wood to ebony, and some had what appeared to be ivory on one or both ends. His natural curiosity piqued, Edward approached the cabinet to get a closer look at them. "You are quite the collector, Dr. Cullen. Are these all stethoscopes?"

The doctor's chair creaked as he leaned back in it. "Some of those are very early examples, dating back to 1819. The more recent are as new as the turn of the century."

Edward was fascinated.

"Do you know the history of the stethoscope, Edward? How it came to be invented? It may amuse you."

Edward shook his head and said no, still absorbed by the collection, his eyes roaming from one to another.

"The stethoscope was invented in 1816 by a young French physician named Rene Theophile Hyacinth Laennec. The amusing part is his motive. He was examining a young patient, a young _female_ patient, who I believe was rather... _well endowed,_" Dr. Cullen stopped for a moment and Edward could hear him chuckle quietly, "and, well, he was embarrassed to place his ear against her chest, which, of course, was the only method of examining the circulatory and respiratory systems at that time."

Edward dropped his head and closed his eyes. He was smiling and biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

"Dr. Laennec remembered a trick he'd learned as a child, that you can hear a pin scraping one end of a wooden plank by putting your ear to the other end. Remembering that sound travels through a solid object, he rolled up several sheets of paper, placed one end to his ear, and the other to the young woman's chest. Fortunately, not only for himself and his patient but also for doctors and patients worldwide, he discovered that the sound was not only audible through the paper cone, but was in actuality louder and clearer than if he had listened directly at her chest."

Undeniably surprised, Edward turned to look at the doctor. "One of the most fundamental pieces of medical equipment ever invented, and we owe it to a child's trick and embarrassment?" "Indeed."

"Amazing."

"Indeed."

The smile faded from his face and he turned away from the doctor. "One hundred and two years ago. That was one hundred and two years ago, and we are still relying on it today. We've hardly improved upon it at all. We have not progressed nearly so much as we like to think. There is still so much we do not know, so much we cannot do."

Dr. Cullen rose and approached him. "Edward, look at me."

After taking a deep breath, Edward faced the doctor.

"Yes, it is true that we still have much to learn. Medicine, indeed science in general, advances very slowly. There is much, much trial and error and retrial and error before a discovery is made or a treatment is developed. And then there is yet more trial and error trying to improve upon it. Yes, we do still use a piece of equipment invented one hundred years ago, but that does not mean there has not been progress since. And besides, there have been improvements made." Dr. Cullen gestured to his collection. "As you can see, the original design only allowed the doctor to listen with one ear. And they were rigid, less easily carried around."

Dr. Cullen returned to his desk, and Edward remained standing near the display case.

"The best, most practical discoveries endure. If you wish to become a doctor, one of the first things you must learn is patience. Patience and determination and resilience. Above all, you must not let yourself become so bogged down by what you cannot do that you fail to appreciate that which you can." The doctor's voice lowered. "Take it from me, that can be very easily done be and can be dangerous."

"Dr. Cullen? Do you think we might one day be able to prevent diseases like polio?"

"You are thinking, I presume, of your cousin–I believe you said his name was Mic?"

Edward nodded his head, turning to face the doctor again.

"I believe we will. Someday."

"Do you, do you think someday… we will be able to… give people like Mic... to give them back the use of their limbs?"

"I truly hope so. I hope so with all my soul. However, I am sorry, Edward, but I am afraid it is very unlikely to be in time for your cousin's benefit. I believe strongly in the ability of mankind to find ways to do what was previously believed to be impossible. The human mind is incredibly resourceful when it is determined."

Dr. Cullen smiled and picked up his stethoscope. "And sometimes, we just get lucky."

Edward sighed and looked around at some of the doctor's other collections. "Dr. Cullen? If someone from... say one hundred years from now could see us, what do you think they would think of us?"

"How old are you, Edward?"

Edward turned and looked at the doctor, confused. "Seventeen, sir."

"Are you sure? You ask some very... provocative questions for a seventeen year old."

Edward looked down in embarrassment.

"I mean that as a complement, Edward. You _think._ Not very many people do. I do enjoy our talks. But,to answer your question, I would hope they would see us as honest, as generous, and as hard working. I suppose I would hope they would see us the same way I would hope others today would see us. Why do you ask?"

"No special reason. Just... what if... say, they _could_ prevent polio. What if they could, I don't know, what if they could go to the bottom of the ocean and explore shipwrecks. Do you think they would… think… poorly… of us…. that they would think…. less of us… because we cannot do what they can? Do you think they would see us as simpletons?"

His voice faded as he spoke so much that the last was whispered so softly Edward was surprised the doctor heard him.

"Simpletons?No, of course not. Why would they think that? Of course, in one hundred years one would expect advancement, but to pass judgment on the past for not knowing what is known in the present would be unfair."

Edward hesitantly looked back at Dr. Cullen, who was quiet for a moment before continuing. "One hundred years from now? They would be your grandchildren and great grandchildren. Did you know your grandparents, Edward?"

After Edward nodded his head, the doctor continued.

"When they were your age, did the telephone exist? Were there aeroplanes? Could your great grandparents, at your age, have imagined the electric telegraph or that we can today prevent rabies in a person bitten by a rabid animal? If they could see you flip a switch or pull on a chain and have an electric light turn on across the room, what would they think? Do you think less of them for not having had what we have? For not knowing what we know?"

"No."

"No, of course you do not. Nor will your descendants think less of you for not having what they have."

Dr. Cullen rose and directed Edward's attention to another display case and another of his collections, but Edward spoke first. "I apologize, Dr. Cullen. You asked me about my mother, and I did not answer you."

"It is quite alright, Edward. I do not wish to pry."

"You are not prying, sir. We... _I_ greatly appreciate your assistance, especially... that night." Edward did not like to think about the night his father died at all if he could avoid it, much less talk about it, but he wanted to let Dr. Cullen know how grateful they both were to him.

"How is your mother? Is she sleeping? Eating?"

Edward kept his eyes averted, looking at the wall. It seemed easier somehow. "She is not eating much at all. She looks… so very tired, and her voice…. She never speaks unless spoken to directly, and even then it is impossible to get more than a few words from her, but her voice sounds so… resigned… so defeated."

"It has only been a little over a week, Edward, what you describe is what I would expect. It is not only physical wounds which take time to heal, you know this. I know it must be very difficult for you to see her so altered from her normal self. She will come around, but give her time. Do not be impatient; do not try to rush her.

"Her not eating is a cause for concern, as is her apparent lack of sleep, but as I said, it has only been a week. If you do not see some improvement regarding her eating and sleeping habits in the coming week or so, please do let me know. But it could be some months before you begin to see any real return of her normal self."

Edward let out a breath and looked at the collection the doctor was showing him, shaking his head. He leaned against the wall and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I feel so useless. My father wanted me to take care of her, but I am afraid of doing the wrong thing."

"What do you do with the soldiers here in the hospital?"

"Sir?"

"What do you do with the soldiers here in the hospital? You and your mother have been through a traumatic experience–different from theirs, I grant you–but not entirely different. Just like them, _you and she both _need time to heal. Do at home what you do here. If she wishes to talk, let her. If she wishes to remain silent, let her. If she wishes to talk about your father, let her. If she wishes to discuss the shortening length of ladies skirts, let her."

Edward couldn't help but smile a little in appreciation as Dr. Cullen lightened the mood slightly. He really could not understand why so many people–everyone really–seemed almost afraid of the man. Dr. Cullen was young, somewhat shorter and thinner than average. There was nothing at all threatening about him that Edward could see. He seemed perfectly amiable to him, and Edward thought his judgment of people was pretty good, and he knew his mother's was excellent. _What do they think he will do? Attack them? Bite their heads off? Anyone who spoke to him for even just a few minutes could see he would never hurt even a fly if he could avoid it. _

"That goes for yourself as well, Edward. Please know my door is always open, to both yourself and your mother, but I expect you would prefer to speak to a friend your own age. Or perhaps someone who knew your father, your uncle or cousin, for example."

Edward was more grateful for the offer than he could rightly express, and his voice caught in his throat as he spoke, "Thank you, sir. Personally, I am very much in favor of the shortening length of ladies' skirts."

Dr. Cullen was as still as a statue for a moment before a smile lit up his face, and he laughed heartily.

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"_...I got the lock of your hair, thank you. It's incredible to actually have part of you here with me..."_

Edward's father's gold pocket locket, which now held the lock of Bella's hair in addition to locks from both of his parents, rested in his waistcoat pocket, and Edward lightly traced the edge of it with his fingertip. _It is incredible to have part of you here with me, too. _

Dr. Cullen and Bella had both suggested that perhaps his mother just needed him to sit with her, without his trying to get her to talk, and that was exactly what he was doing. _She will talk when she is ready. _His mother had been sitting in the parlor alone and quiet, and he joined her with a disappointing book he had been unable to find the interest to finish. The book was only a shield to hide Bella's letter as he read it again and again.

"…_there is a dance at my school coming up, and it's 'girl's choice', the girl asks the boy…"_

_ The _girl _asks the _boy_? She cannot be serious. Can she? She must be teasing me. _Edward moved his hand from the locket to her letter and ran his finger over her words. The thought that Bella might attend a dance with someone sent chills of jealousy through him so strong he shivered with them, but the thought that _she_ might actually approach someone and ask him to escort her made him feel physically ill.

_You are being stupid, Edward. And selfish. You know very well that you will marry and have at least one child. You know you will love another. Do you not wish the same for her? Do you wish for her to spend her life alone, waiting for your next letter? You will find someone and fall in love, and she will do the same. It may not be soon, but one day, she will meet someone, and she will fall in love with him. And when she walks down the aisle in a long white dress, it will be him she walks toward, not you. Not you. _Edward took a painful breath and tried to focus on the parts of her letter that didn't leave him feeling empty and cold.

_..."stick a sock in it" is a rude way to tell someone to be quiet... ...When I read that you actually told your uncle that, I completely cracked up. My stomach ached, and I couldn't breathe... ...If you Google something, you look it up on the computer..."_

_ So, "stick a sock in it" is rude is it? Good. Why would she say that made her crack up, though? That's odd. And she said her stomach ached and she couldn't breathe. Has she been ill? Would she not have said? Perhaps not, if she were afraid of alarming me. Still, why would she mention it in such an odd way? I still don't know what "ripped him a new one" means, but I am guessing it is rude, too. A new what, I wonder? And now I need to ask what "btw" means. "Btw"? How in heaven's name can you have a word with no vowels? I still think 'Google' is an odd word. _

"…_there are laws and a lot of organizations to help people with disabilities today. There are even sports leagues. There was an article in the newspaper recently about the University of Arizona Women's Wheelchair Basketball Team. Go Lady Wildcats!…"_

Edward closed his eyes and tried to picture ladies in wheelchairs playing basketball, but for the life of him, he could not. He could not begin to imagine how people in wheelchairs could possibly play any sport. _Of course, I could not have imagined that Mic could manage the stairs by himself either._

"…_why you didn't sail on the Titanic?…"_

_ She continues to ask that. It is almost as if... Could it be? But... No... Surely, she could not... Could she? My silly Bella, you must. _

"…_Don't be silly, Edward. Of course the Dodgers aren't the same team today they were in 1918. Ninety one years is a long time. I'm sure they have all new players by now."_

_ Very funny, Bella. Two can play at that game, my love. Why did we not sail on the Titanic indeed._

"Are you enjoying your book, dearest?"

Edward looked up from the book in which he had Bella's letter concealed at his mother in surprise. She had spoken to him on her own, with no prodding, to ask him about his book. "Oh, no, not very much, I am afraid. It is a bit tedious."

"What book is it? Is it a new one?"

Edward was relieved. _That makes three questions._ He would have to tell Dr. Cullen and Bella their idea worked. "Yes, it is. Zane Grey. _The U. P. Trail_. I had high hopes for it. It had very good reviews. It is a Western, or at least it is supposed to be, but seems mostly to be about the adventures of one very unlucky young lady. One can only flee an evil step-father, be attacked by Indians, be rescued by her true love, be kidnapped by outlaws, be attacked by Indians and taken captive _again_, escape, run into the step-father she was fleeing in the first place, escape _again _and be reunited with her true love, only to be imprisoned and forced to escape _again_, be captured by her step-father _again _and so on, so many times before you begin to think the poor girl is some kind of a magnet for trouble. How many life threatening situations can one girl get into?"

"I thought you must be enjoying it. You were smiling."

"_...Have you asked her if she would like you to play for her?…"_

"Was I? I hadn't realized. I was just thinking perhaps I would play for a while before bed. Would you like that, Mother?"

His mother's gaze had drifted back to his father's chair, and she was silent for what seemed like a very long time. It was very hard for Edward to sit still and not try to get her to talk more. _Don't talk. Don't talk. She spoke to you on her own. Give her time. Let her talk again when she is ready. Do not rush her. _

His mother closed her eyes slowly and continued to sit quietly before opening them again. If Edward did not know better, he could almost swear that she could see his father sitting there still, that she was speaking to him while she was silent. Perhaps she was. If he could write to and receive letters from the girl he loved seventy-five years before she was even born, who was he to say his mother could not still see and talk to his father even after his death?

"Yes, dearest. That would be lovely."

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Historical notes – From what I saw online, in 1918 "crack up" referred only to going crazy. The meaning to crack up laughing didn't come about until the 1940's. - answers . com

Bella refers to Edward telling her about all the flowers they received after his father died. Funerals were held in the home and bodies were not embalmed. They got rather ripe rather fast. The custom of sending flowers after someone died was originally to mask the smell.

Women's hemlines began to rise about this time–both out of practical needs as their roles began to shift as the men went to war and out of a need to conserve resouces, namely fabric–from floor length to just above the ankle. By 1919, hemlines had risen to a shockingly scandalous 6 inches off the ground. (Gasp!)

At the end of the chapter, Edward is reading from a Zane Grey book, _The U.P. Trail_, which was the best selling book in 1918 according to Publisher's Weekly. I've never read it myself, I took Edward's impression of the book from reviews I found online on Amazon. I got a kick out of the description of a girl who was a danger magnet, rather reminiscent of Bella. U.P. stands for Union Pacific.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you to my two PTB betas for this chapter, thir13enth and DeanWinchester-myheart!

This chapter is slightly different in that it's mostly letters back and forth, sometime full letters, sometimes just snippets.

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_July 22, 1918_

_My dearest Bella,_

_Very funny, my sweet. Allow me to rephrase my question. Do you know if the team that in your time calls themselves the Dodgers is the same franchise that in my time is called the Robins but has been called the Dodgers in the past? Can you Google it on your computer gadget thingamabob? I do like that word. I still think it is very odd, but I like it. _

_There is also another matter I would like to clear up. It occurred to me last night while rereading your letter that you seem to be assuming that my parents and I were to have sailed on the maiden voyage of the Titanic. You do understand, my dear, sweet, and funny Bella, that although, tragically, the Titanic only sailed one time, other sailings were planned? We sailed on a different ship because we sailed in June. _

_I thank you for your suggestions regarding my mother. I went to the hospital for the first time yesterday to say goodbye to one of the men I had been visiting, as he is now well enough to return home, and I spoke to a doctor who is a friend of ours. I believe I mentioned him to you once before, he sat with my mother and I as much as possible the night my father died. He asked after her and said much the same as you had. I joined her in the parlor last night with a book (I confess I had your letter hidden in the book, and it was that which I read and reread.) After some time she spoke to me, asking me about my book. We spoke for a few minutes, and eventually I played for her for nearly half an hour. We have just finished breakfast, and although she had only a slice of toast and a cup of coffee she did comment on the sun being out today. I am going to the hospital for a short while soon, and her sister, my Aunt Sarah, will come and sit with her. It has been such a gloomy summer, and the sun is out so brightly today, I am going to suggest to my aunt that they sit in the backyard. There is a large shade tree with wicker chairs and a small table under it. Hopefully, my aunt can persuade her to do some knitting. It might serve to occupy her mind for a short while and, hopefully, feeling productive might lift her spirits. My mother has never been one to sit idle, and I am afraid all this inactivity is focusing_ _her_ _attention solely on her pain. I understand I cannot push her, and I won't, but there is something very particular I would like to ask her to make for me, a gift for a friend. _

_There were several things you said in your last letter that I had a difficult time imagining–not the least of which is the idea that a girl would ask a boy to escort her to a dance. I cannot help but think you must be teasing me. I wonder, is there a certain young man you would like to escort you to the dance?_

_I am very happy that Polio can be prevented in your time. That is truly wonderful. I know Mic often has a very difficult time, and I am glad things have improved for the crippled. I have tried to visualize women in wheelchairs playing basketball, but I cannot. However, I could not have imagined that Mic could handle the stairs as he did, either. _

_You still have not told me what "ripped him a new one" means, and now you need to tell me what "btw" means as well. I know I have said this before, but you really do have the strangest words in your time, Bella. First "Google", now "btw". It does not even have a vowel. How can you have a word with no vowels? Please do tell me where the name "Astros" came from. I cannot imagine anything more difficult to believe than what you have already told me._

_I am glad you are going to visit your father, but I will miss you terribly while you are away. How soon do you leave? You must promise to write to me as soon as you return. Who will be accompanying you on your trip? I will try not to get myself committed while you are away. I remain, _

_Your friend,_

_Edward_

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_Dear Edward,_

_Yes the Los Angeles Dodgers are the same franchise as the Brooklyn Dodgers, (Robins, etc.), and yes, I did Google it. It seems strange to see the word "Google" in your handwriting._

_OK, I admit it. I am embarrassed to admit it, but, yes, that was exactly what I assumed. It honestly never occurred to me that of course there would be others planned. Isn't it considered ungentlemanly to tease a girl?_

_I'm leaving to visit my dad on April 8th after school, so about three weeks. We get out early that day, at noon. Easter is the 12th. I won't be gone long enough for you to miss me, only five days. No one is "escorting" me. I'm going alone. Don't freak out. I promise, it's normal, safe, and acceptable today. My mom will see me off, and my dad will meet me. Easy breezy. _

_My dad has a new lady friend I'm going to meet while I'm there. She's from Alaska but has family in Forks, cousins, my dad said. They met while she was visiting them, and she stayed. Apparently she is absolutely beautiful. I'm just realizing I don't know her last name. I'm looking forward to meeting her and her family. Apparently, there is quite the scandal surrounding them, and in spite of being very wealthy and very beautiful, they've never been accepted by the born and breds. My dad had a big fight with one of his oldest friends about her. His friend is Native American and lives on a reservation. For some reason the tribe really, really does not like this one family, but my dad doesn't know why. The father is a doctor, and the tribe have actually stopped going to the hospital because he works there. _

_I am not teasing you about the dance, it really is girl's choice, but I'm not going. To answer your question, no there is no certain young man I would like to escort me to the dance._

Bella put her pen down and sighed. _I'm lying. Yes, there is. But you're not here. _She let herself daydream, and in her dream, she was walking down a grand staircase of carved wood and into a ballroom. She was wearing her blue dress, and she had a beautiful, jeweled Mardi Gras style mask trimmed in purple feathers partially covering her face. Her hair was up in an old fashioned chignon with a few loose curls framing her face. She was wearing silk gloves that came to her elbows in the same color as her dress. The stick from her mask was held in her right hand, and her left hand was lightly trailing down the carved, dark wood banister. She wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her footing, but she had no fear of tripping at all. She descended the stairs so gracefully, she was practically floating_._

The ballroom was filled with all the kids from school, who were all dancing and oblivious to her arrival. She was nearly as oblivious of them, not noticing them any more than she noticed the floor or the walls. They were just there, part of the décor of the room.

Her eyes were focused solely on the young man standing at the bottom of the staircase, holding his hand out to her. He wore a black tail coat over a white waistcoat with a white bow tie and wore white gloves. His face was hidden behind his own Mardi Gras mask of emerald green, but all she needed to identify him was his bronze hair.

"Edward."

As she reached the bottom step she placed her hand in his outstretched one. _"My dearest Bella. I have waited so long for you." _

The staircase, the other kids from school, the room itself, everything except the two of them faded away as he led her out onto the dance floor until it was only the two of them. Music played faintly in the back ground, _"My Heart Will Go On." _

Edward wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, and she pressed her head against his chest, her left arm wrapped around his waist, holding him more tightly. Her right hand rested on his shoulder, and her eyes drifted shut in absolute contentment as they gently swayed together to the music.

As the song began to come to a close, Bella opened her eyes in a sudden panic. She pressed her ear against his chest more firmly and listened as carefully as she could.

"Edward? I… I can't…. Edward… I can't hear your heartbeat. I can't feel your heartbeat. I can't feel you breathe."

An icy breath floated across her face, and she heard him whisper to her as the music faded away.

"_I am safe in your heart, and your heart will go on and on." _

As Edward whispered to her, he began to feel less and less solid in her arms until he vanished completely, and Bella was alone in the dark.

"Edward! _EDWARD!_" She looked around, frantically calling out for him, "Edward, where are you? Where did you go? I can't find you!"

Out of the darkness his voice whispered to her, _"You will, Bella, you will. I remain yours. I am waiting for you. You will find me." _

"Bella? Sweetie, wake up. You're having a bad dream. Wake up, baby."

Bella jerked awake, her eyes darting wildly around her room, searching for Edward, as if her dream had followed her when she woke..

"It's OK, baby, it was just a dream."

Feeling lost and alone, Bella slumped bonelessly against their desk. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute in her chest. _It was only a dream. _

"Must've been a doozy. You were yelling that you couldn't find someone."

"Yeah. It was a doozy, alright." Bella looked around her room again and saw her alarm clock. It was the middle of the night. _Oh, crap. I fell asleep writing to Edward. _

_ Oh, crap! I fell asleep writing to Edward! The letter! She can't see the letter! _

School books were piled on top of each other on their desk, and her notebook was open. She was sure her mom hadn't seen the letter yet; she was much too naturally curious of a person to resist the temptation of asking her about about a letter written on pretty stationary. _The books must be hiding it from her view. _Bella's legs felt like they might give out from under her with nerves, but she forced herself to stand up, yawned and stretched, and walked away from their desk. To leave her letter behind where her mother might spot it was agonizing, but she knew trying to hide it would attract her mother's attention and peak her curiosity. She was counting on her mother's eyes following her and not looking at their desk, and sure enough, her mother's eyes followed her.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry I woke you. I must've fallen asleep studying."

As she got into bed her mother came over, pulling the sheet over her. "That's OK, sweetie. That's what moms are for." Her mother kissed her on the forehead and ruffled her hair. "It really is great that you're so interested in your schoolwork, honey, but maybe you really should take it down a notch or two sometimes. You're a kid, honey. You won't be a teenager forever, you know. You should be out there having fun. There's a dance coming up, isn't there? There's a student teacher at school whose younger sister goes to your school. She said it's all her sister talks about. Girl's choice, isn't it?"

Bella did not like where this was headed, and she yawned again, hoping her mother would think she was tired and let it go, but she had no such luck.

"Sonia Ruiz said that nice boy, Jason, dropped you off the other day. I think he likes you. You should ask him." Her mother tickled her side and leaned in close, continuing in a sing song voice. "I bet he'd say yes."

Bella sat up and rubbed her eyes before yawning for real. "Don't be silly, Jason doesn't like me."

It looked like Renee was going to continue to argue her imagined point, and Bella pulled out the big gun to stop her. "I'm not his type." Giving her mother a pointed look, she continued with the one thing that was sure to sink any boy in the eyes of any parent of a teenage daughter. "His type of girl is a little more… _friendly." _

Visibly surprised, her mother sat up perfectly straight and looked personally offended that she had been fooled by a boy she'd liked. "Well, then... If that's the case, you're too good for him." She softened again soon though. "Promise me you will at least think about going though, sweetie. You could always just go with some of your girlfriends."

Just to end the discussion, Bella promised to think about it, hoping her mom would forget all about it once Phil came back, and once her mother had gone and she heard her bedroom door close, she went back to their desk to finish her letter.

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_I'm surprised you only had trouble picturing women in wheelchairs playing basketball. I expected you to have trouble picturing women playing basketball at all. Your grandson did say your family supported women's suffrage (btw, thank you for that), but I didn't think you'd be so open minded and accepting about women playing sports. I'm very impressed, Edward. _

_Btw, "btw" isn't a word. It stands for "by the way"._

_OK, I'll tell you where the name Astros comes from. But, be warned. You asked for it. The Astros play in Houston, Texas. The name Astros is in tribute to the U.S. Astronaut Program, which is centered in Houston. Astronauts are people who travel into space. Some have landed on the moon, and some live in space on the International Space Station. Before you ask: yes, I am serious, and no, I am not making that up. I did warn you that you would not believe me. _

_Your Friend, _

_Bella _

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J_uly 25, 1918_

_Why would I be surprised at women playing basketball? _

_You were right. I do not believe you. Landing on the moon and living in space? I may have read _From the Earth to the Moon_, but you cannot make me believe it has really happened. I was born 108 years ago, Bella, not yesterday._

_I did what you suggested about my mother's favorite flower. Her favorite flower is lavender, and her favorite color is purple, something you and she have in common. We have a border of lavender growing along the side of our house, and I cut some to bring in for her. She has beautiful flower beds in our backyard, which are in full bloom right now. She went out on her own to cut some pink and white roses to arrange with the lavender. I entered the room while she was arranging the flowers in a crystal vase my father gave her filled with tulips for her birthday in April. I watched her for a moment before she told me that when she married my father, these were the flowers she carried, roses in white and various shades of pink with lavender. I never knew that. Honestly, I never gave it a thought. Their wedding portrait hangs on the wall in the parlor, and I have looked at it frequently as of late, but I never took any particular notice of her bouquet. Of course, you cannot tell what color the flowers were anyway, only that they were a pale color. She still is not eating or sleeping well, but she has moments, like this one, where I can catch of glimpse of her within the veil she is surrounded by. _

_I think I have a pretty good idea what the phrase "don't freak out" means. I do not like the idea of you traveling so far unaccompanied, Bella. It may be normal in your world, but it most certainly is not in mine. It cannot be safe for a young lady to travel such a distance alone, and in the West no less. I cannot help but be surprised your parents would allow it. I do not know any man who would permit his 16-year-old daughter to travel so far unaccompanied. It is fine that your mother will see you board, and your father will meet you, but what of when you need to change trains? What of overnight? Please, promise me you will be careful. Do not speak to anyone other than railroad personnel, and keep your belongings near you and keep your eye on them at all times. Do not set them down and look away for even a moment. Stay as near as possible to railroad personnel or try to sit close to a large family traveling together, so that it may appear to passersby that you are with them. While on board, stay in your compartment and keep your door locked at all times. I do not like this at all. I will be worried until I know you are safely back home. _

_I realize that by your time trains may travel much faster than they do today, but even assuming that, it does not seem possible that you could even make the trip to Washington and back in only five days. You will have hardly even a full day to visit your father. Why would you travel so very far for such a short period of time?_

_Please do not be angry with me, Bella, I would not lecture you for the world, and I fear that is all I am doing, but if there is any scandal involving this young lady's family, I wish you would not attempt to befriend them. Especially as your father's closest friends do not approve of them. It could be damaging to your father's reputation, especially in his position as Chief of Police, if you were to become an object of gossip. I fully realize it is unfair, but the world does not judge women by the same rules as it does men. It is unfair, but it is the truth. The town's people may not object to your father's friendship with their cousin, but they may not be so accepting if you befriended them as well. _

_Please forgive me, I hope I have not offended you, that is the last thing I would ever want. But, as your friend, I felt I must speak. I pray you will receive my cautions and concerns as the genuine worry for your safety and well-being with which they were given. I remain, _

_Your friend,_

_Edward_

_._

_._

Edward set his pen down and scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. _Traveling from Arizona to Washington alone. What is she thinking? What are her parents thinking? It's safe, she says. It's normal, she says. Does that mean she has done this before? _He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. _"Do not _freak out,_ she says. If that means what I expect it means, I am freaking out._

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_Now do you believe me?_

Edward sat in awed silence and stared without blinking until his eyes burned at the picture Bella had sent him. He was holding a picture she had called "Earthrise". It showed a small blue and white planet half in shadow and surrounded by complete blackness, over a barren, white horizon. There was a typed portion below it, followed by a few lines of Bella's handwriting, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the small blue and white planet to read it. _Is that really… _us_? Is that really the Earth? Is that really what we look like? It is beautiful. The horizon… that's the surface of the moon. We are so small._ He sat completely still, the picture held in one hand, his other hand cupped over his mouth, those thoughts repeating in his head for several minutes before he was able to pull his eyes away to read what was typed and written below the picture.

"_Thirty-five years ago this Christmas, a turbulent world looked to the heavens for a unique view of our home planet. This photo of 'Earthrise' over the lunar horizon was taken by the Apollo 8 crew in December 1968, showing Earth for the first time as it appears from deep space." _

_Now do you believe me? Amazing, isn't it? They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and seeing is believing. Don't forget to blink, or to breathe for that matter. _

As soon as he read Bella's words, Edward took a deep breath and blinked several times. Once he realized he did exactly what she told him to do he laughed, and his eyes returned to the small blue and white planet.

"Amazing."

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_July 29, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I suppose I have no choice but to believe you. That photograph is simply astonishing. I simply could not take my eyes off of it, and I admit I did need the reminder to both breath and blink. We look so small, like a small blue and white marble. So, should I ask? Is the moon, in fact, made of green cheese..._

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…_Very funny, but no. I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but no, the moon is not made of cheese, green or any other color. I've never understood that, the moon isn't even green, and why would cheese even be green? It's funny you should describe the Earth as a blue and white marble, it is sometimes referred to as the blue marble. There are actually some similarities between the book you mentioned and reality. In the book, Verne's cannon was called Columbiad and for one of the lunar missions the command module–where the astronauts lived–was called Columbia, the crew did in fact consist of three people, the dimensions of Verne's spacecraft were very close to the real thing, they do take off from Florida and land in the Pacific Ocean, and both the Columbiad and the Columbia are made of aluminum…_

…_I expected you to be surprised at women playing basketball at all because I know that during your time, women didn't play any sports at all…_

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_…Your history books are not so accurate as you may think. Women do, in fact, play sports in my time, both in high school and at the women's colleges, as well as in the Olympics. However, I grant you, there are nowhere near the number of opportunities for women as there are for men, regarding sports or any other matter. Some people do frown upon it strongly, but more and more schools are adding sports for women every year. I do not believe that once progress has begun it is possible to stop it. High school girls here in Chicago have been playing basketball, as well as tennis, for several years, with more schools adding teams every year…_

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…_I'm sorry. I stand corrected. I Googled it and was able to find pictures of the women's basketball team from the University of Washington from 1899-1900 and a picture from 1913 of a girls' sports team. In the picture from 1913, the girls are holding a tennis racket, a large ball, and what could be narrow bat. You should be very proud, it said the first known high school girls' basketball game was held in Chicago in 1896…._

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With Edward and Bella writing daily, Bella was surprised to realize just how quickly time had passed when she came home from school one Friday to find her airline tickets waiting for her.

Phil came home late that morning for a short stretch of home games to begin the regular season, and her mom had taken a sick day from work to meet him. Bella was _very_ grateful to have missed the "Welcome home. I missed you" reunion was leaving again on April 9th for a road trip, and since school was out and Bella was going to be with her dad, her mom was able to join him for part of it.

"Your dad sent your tickets, sweetie. I put them on your desk."

Bella looked at her mother in surprise. "He sent them already? It's a little early, isn't it? He usually doesn't send them until a few days before."

"A little early? Bella, it's the 3rd. You leave in five days."

_ April 3rd? How did I not realize it was already April? Easter is next week already. I leave on Wednesday. I'll be gone for five whole days. I won't hear from Edward for Five Whole Days. _

"Bella? Baby, you OK?"

"What? Oh… I… Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. I just... didn't realize it was so soon is all. I'm... a little tired. I think I'll just… go... lie down."

"You're sure you're OK, baby? You look really pale."

Bella mentally shook herself, trying to snap herself out of the shock of realizing she'd be away from Edward for five whole days soon. "I'm always really pale. Where's Phil? I thought he'd be here."

"He's already gone to the field, batting warm up or something."

At their desk, Bella sat with a blank sheet of paper and her airline tickets in front of her. _How did I not realize it was next week already? _She felt like her heart would break. She got her box of Edward's letters out of the bottom drawer and read through them all again, not realizing there were tears in her eyes until she felt them spill down her cheeks. _He thinks I'm taking the train. Of course he'd think that. I meant to tell him, but we started talking about other things, and I forgot. _Even through her tears she smiled mischievously.

_ He'll freak when I tell him I'm flying._

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_Dear Edward,_

_I'm leaving to visit my father on Wednesday, in five days. He sent me my tickets, and I just got them today. I didn't realize it was so soon already. I changed my mind, five days is more than enough time to miss you. I meant to tell you, I'm not taking the train, I'm flying. The flight from Phoenix to Seattle is only about two and half hours…_

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_._

After finishing her letter, Bella opened the hidden compartment, smiling while trying to imagine his reaction when he read that she'd be flying.

_ He is so going to freak._

When she saw what was waiting for her, the smile faded from her face for a moment in surprise before returning wider than ever. She picked them up and marveled at how very soft they were, and she buried her face in them. _They smell like lavender. _ Edward had sent her a scarf and gloves in a dark periwinkle color, and grinning widely, Bella wrapped the scarf around her neck and pulled the gloves on, finding a short letter inside one of the gloves.

_._

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_August 7, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_You will be leaving soon to visit your father, and I know you said it is cold and damp there. I hope you will take these with you to help keep you warm. I asked my mother to make them for you. Do not worry, I am in no danger of being committed to an asylum while you are away, I merely told her they were "for a friend", which they are. She did, however, give me a somewhat suspicious glance once or twice that evening. I watched her knitting them while sitting in the backyard, and I tried to imagine you wearing them. I think this color will look lovely with your hair. Actually, I know it will. I picked the yarn out myself. I wanted the softest and warmest they had. I took a small piece of the ribbon you tied the lock of your hair with to the store, and the saleslady matched the color for me._

_I do think it helped my mother somewhat to have something to do. She has begun knitting again, but only for short periods of time. _

_I hope the gloves fit. They stretch quite a bit, so they should. She made gloves for my cousin, Laura, for last Christmas, and she used that pattern for these. I hope you like them. You are wrong, five days is more than enough time for me to miss you. I remain, _

_Your Friend, _

_Edward_

_._

_._

As Bella sat at their desk, she ran her gloved fingers across her face enjoying the feel of the gloves. Receiving gifts usually made her uncomfortable; she didn't like her parents to spend money they didn't really have on things she didn't really need, but she was nearly overwhelmed with the appreciation she felt for him. She had never felt anything so soft, and she was sure they'd be warm. Nor had she ever had anything that was handmade by someone specifically for her before. Edward had remembered she said it was always rainy and cold in Forks, and she would need new things, and she was touched he thought to send them to her. Still wearing the gloves, she wrote a quick thank you note on the back of the letter she had already written and put it in the drawer for him.

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_August 8, 1918 _

_My Dearest Bella,_

_When you said you are flying to Washington, do you mean flying as in actually flying? In an aeroplane? Are you really flying? I am sorry if I am repeating myself or if I sound foolish, but it is too incredible. I remain, _

_Your friend,_

_Edward_

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"What are you looking at, Edward?"

Lillian and Irene Stevenson had come to visit with their father and younger sister, Anna, but Edward was not very good company today. His mind was, very literally, in the clouds.

_ She's flying. Really _flying. _In just two and one half hours, she can _fly_ from Arizona to the State of Washington._

He didn't know exactly how far that was, but he thought it must be about fifteen hundred miles. What he was sure of was that the trip up and back would take him days.

Reluctantly, Edward pulled his eyes from the clouds and scattered patches of blue to return his attention to their guests. "Forgive me, Lillian, what did you say?"

Lillian set her lemonade down and repeated her question. "I asked what you were looking at. You have been staring at the sky all afternoon. Are you imagining the clouds are rabbits and turtles?"

_ In truth, I have been imagining what they would look like out of an areoplane. _Before Edward could apologize for his lack of attention, Anna reprimanded her older sister for teasing him. She was sweet on Edward, and when he smiled and winked at her, the young girl blushed scarlet and dropped her eyes to the ground. "Thank you, Anna. You are still my girl. Oh, Anna, forgive me. Where is my head? I nearly forgot. Happy birthday, Snapdragon. Thirteen is a big number. I hope you had a pleasant party."

Young Anna Stevenson's face turned redder still, and she barely managed to squeak out, "Yes, thank you, it was lovely," but she managed to lift her eyes when she spoke to his mother. "I received your birthday card, Mrs. Masen. It was lovely, thank you."

Edward caught the momentary flash of surprise on his mother's face before her eyes darted to his. He raised his glass and took a sip, masking a very slight nod of the head. He was glad to see the ghost of a smile on her face as she looked back at the still blushing thirteen-year-old.

"You are most welcome, my dear. I am glad you liked it. Edward is right, thirteen already... My goodness, how the time does fly. You are quite the young lady already."

Irene gently stroked her sister's hair lovingly. Since their mother's death, both she and Lillian had fallen into the role of a mother figure for their younger sister and doted on her. "Anna, darling, show Mrs. Masen and Edward your new necklace." Irene looked from her sister to Mrs. Masen. "It was a gift from Father." Hesitating and seemingly unsure whether to continue, her glance briefly slid to Edward before going on at his slight nod. "Opal was our mother's birthstone. We have all three now received a pendant combining an opal with our own birthstone for our birthdays."

It had been quite some time after their mother's sudden death last year before they were able to mention her, and Edward did not want them to think–now that he and his mother had suffered a similar loss–that they no longer could in their presence. He would be very careful to not force his mother back into the world before she was ready, but at the same time, the world did continue to move, and he felt it would be wrong to pretend otherwise.

It was at that moment and with great surprise that Edward realized today was four weeks to the day since his father fell ill, and he looked over at his mother, who was making a fuss over Anna's new necklace. Once again it occurred to him what a great pity it was that his parents had not had more children. He would truly have liked to have had brothers and sisters, and his mother, he was sure, would have adored having had a daughter.

"It is lovely, Anna. Such a lovely idea. The peridot is beautiful with the opal. They complement each other wonderfully. Isn't that so, Edward?"

Anna reddened again as she walked over to Edward to show him her new necklace. Edward was a typical seventeen-year-old boy and did not have the first idea which was the opal and which was the peridot, but he would not hurt Anna's feelings for the world. "It is, indeed. Very beautiful."

When she spoke, the young girl's eyes lifted to him while keeping her face lowered nervously. "Lillian's has amethyst, and Irene's has ruby."

Although he did remember seeing his friend's necklaces, Edward did not remember their telling him of the significance of the stones. _Lillian's is purple and the white stone, and Irene's is red and the white stone. The white stone is the opal. _

The look in the young girl's eyes plainly told him she thought her sisters' purple and red stones were prettier than her green one. "I do think, though, that I like the peridot the best. Green is my favorite color, did you know that?"

Anna's eyes widened the way only a young girl's can at praise from her first crush, and she looked up at him like what he was saying was the most fascinating thing she had ever heard.

"That particular shade of green, especially. It looks like spring. It is the exact color of the leaves on the trees when they first arrive in the spring."

By now, Anna was overjoyed beyond words at being so noticed by Edward, and mesmerized, she giggled and ran back to her sisters, a smile wide across her face.

The Stevenson's stayed for another half an hour before saying good-bye, and once they were gone his mother commented on the visit. "It was good of them to come and call. They are such charming girls." His mother gave him a look that was for a moment nearly mischievous. "Young Anna, as well, of course. She will be quite as beautiful as her sisters."

Edward gave a noncommittal hum, dreading what he feared was coming and wishing more than anything that he could escape to the safety of his bedroom and the possibility of a new letter from Bella.

"_The color or spring, _Edward?I had no idea you had a poetic side."

Squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward dropped his head and shoulders in defeat. He had been hoping his mother would not bring that up.

"She is a sweet girl, and I merely wanted to make her happy. She was saddened, thinking her sisters' necklaces were prettier than hers."

What Edward thought might almost have been a faint smile graced his mother's lips. "Oh, I daresay you made her very happy, indeed." Elizabeth walked out of the room, and he thought that was all she would say on the matter. He was wrong; she looked back over her shoulder at him, and this time there was no mistaking the gleam in her eye. "If I remember what it was like to be thirteen and in love, young Anna Stevenson will think of nothing else all night but of how well the name Anna Masen sounds."

There was still some time until dinner, and his mother had gone to her room to lie down. Having a short while to himself, Edward rushed to his room to see if Bella had written back yet. Her last letter had left him speechless. Or, rather, he wished it had. He was embarrassed now to think of what he had written, but at the time he could not think past those few sentences. _Good Heavens, "Flying as in actually flying? In an areoplane?" "In an areoplane?" For Pete's sake, Edward, how else would she fly? Grow wings? Why could I not have kept my mouth shut at least until the shock wore off? In all honestly, I should have not been so very surprised. Did I not just tell her that I did not believe that progress, once started, could be stopped?"_ As he opened the hidden compartment he shook his head in amazement. _Flying, though... What _must_ that be like?_

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_Dear Edward, _

_I wish I could've seen your face when you read that. I knew it would knock your socks off. Yes, I meant really flying in a real plane. I love the way you use the word "areoplane", it sounds so old-fashioned. I'll take a picture of the clouds out the window of the plane for you. There'll be no shortage of them where I'm going. They really are beautiful from above with the sun shining down on them. That's likely to be the last time I see the sun shining down on anything until my flight back home. _

_Thank you again for the gloves and scarf, they fit perfectly. The color is beautiful, and they are the softest things I think I've ever felt. They smell like lavender. I've never had anything someone made by hand just for me. If I didn't know I was going to miss you so much, I'd almost be looking forward to going to Forks just to have a chance to show them off. _

_I talked to my dad to let him know I got the tickets. He is still having the same problems with his friends on the reservation about his girlfriend and her family. I don't understand what their problem is. My dad is a real good judge of character–if he says they're good people, then they're good people. My dad doesn't like to talk a lot, normally it's like pulling teeth to get him to say more than "I'm fine," or "Everything's great." Since he's meet Tanya, though, he's almost like a new man. He's happy. He's been alone since the divorce. I don't understand why some of his oldest friends can't be happy for him. I wish I could give them a piece of my mind. My dad said there was a volunteer fire fighter who was injured recently at a fire. It was really bad, severe burns. He's going to be in the hospital and out of work for a long time, and he's got a wife and three kids. The fire department held a dinner and a concert to raise money to help with his bills. My dad said a huge anonymous donation was received through an attorney in Seattle. Someone has basically made themselves responsible for all his bills. My dad doesn't know for sure, of course, but he suspects it's this family. He said no one else in town has that kind of money. I'm really looking forward to meeting them, Tanya especially, of course. Don't worry. I won't risk my father's reputation. I'm not upset, by the way. I don't like to think you're worrying about me, though. It really isn't necessary. _

_As much as I'm going to miss you, I am looking forward to going. My dad is much more like me, much quieter than my mom. A new book came out recently that I've been looking forward to reading, and I'm going to start it the minute I sit down on the plane. My mom is a little too excited about her wedding plans. I love her very much, and I am happy for her, but she can be a bit much. She has appointments set up with half the photographers in Phoenix for as soon as I get back. If I ever get married, I'm eloping. _

_Your friend, _

_Bella_

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_August 11, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I hope this arrives in time for you to receive it before you have to leave. I wanted to have the chance to wish you a safe journey. I am still worried, but not nearly so much as before now that I know how quickly you will be able to make the trip. I suppose I cannot help myself. My friends tell me I always worry too much. I hope you will have a wonderful time on your visit. _

_I would love it if you would send me a picture of the clouds from above. I wonder, would you be able to send me a picture of yourself as well? _

_Have a wonderful time, Bella. If your father's friends are still uncooperative, "rip them a new one". Do not think I have not noticed that you still have not told me what that means, although, given the context in which you used it, I can guess it is impolite. And as you seem to be deliberately not telling me what it means, I can guess it is very impolite. Hurry home, I will miss you. Be safe. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

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_Dear Edward,_

_I only have a moment. We are leaving for the airport in a few minutes. I just got your letter._ _ I was hoping I'd hear from you again before I left. Your letter is dated the 11__th__, so I'm guessing you will probably get this on the 12__th__. I just wanted to let you know I realize what that date means. I'm sorry I won't be here, but I will be thinking about you the whole time I'm away. _

_I will send you a picture of me, if you send me one of you. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I know you'll be shocked, at least. We dress very differently than you do. Very, very differently. I don't remember the last time I even wore a dress. We do have a picture of me in the dress for my mother's wedding, but that might be even more shocking. It's strapless. You have been warned. _

_Your Friend, _

_Bella_

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If you Google "earthrise" you can see the picture Bella sends Edward. This is the first picture they exchange.

Next chapter – Bella goes to Forks!

If you're on twitter, check out twi fic central . com and follow them to receive weekly teasers every Wednesday. The teaser for chapter 14 has already been submitted!

Historical notes – Edward corrects Bella's assumptions on women's sports in 1918. The first inter-institutional women's basketball game was held in 1891 between the University of California and Miss Head's School. The first women's college basketball game was played at Smith College in 1983–no men were admitted to the game, they were kept out by women guarding the windows and doors. By 1895 the game had spread to colleges across the country, including Wellesley, Vassar, and Bryn Mawr, and more schools added women's basketball to their sports offerings for girls. The first intercollegiate women's game was on April 4, 1896. Stanford women played Berkeley, 9-on-9, with Stanford winning 2-1. This was one of the first women's intercollegiate athletic games, the other being between the University of Washington and Ellensburg Norman School. The first known women's basketball game between two high schools was played in Chicago, (Edward should be proud, huh?) Chicago Austin High School against Oak Park High School. I don't imagine the game they played resembled what you would see on a court today in any way–rules varied greatly at the time, calling for five to ten players per team and 11 officials and the girls wore pantaloons and black stockings while playing–but I think the important thing is that they played, not how. Keep in mind basketball was only invented in 1891, so the women of the time were on it practically from day one. Of course, they were not without opposition, in 1899 Stanford and the University of California banned women's basketball from intercollegiate competition, and the American Olympic committee opposed women's participation in 1914. Women first competed in the Olympics in Paris in 1900 in lawn tennis and golf, and there were also three French women competing in croquet and one woman sailor as part of mixed crews. A grand total of 19 women competed. Women competed in swimming for the first time in 1912, but none were American. America didn't allow women to compete in events without long skirts. Women's gymnastics and track were introduced in 1928. If you want to see the picture Bella finds online you can Google University of Washington Women's Basketball 1899-1900. Info per Wikipedia, womenshistory about com, and thesportsjournal org, and washington edu.


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you to my PTB betas for this chapter, Thir13enth, Twilightmom505, and my new permanent beta, SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"_...We do have a picture of me in the dress for my mother's wedding, but that might be even more shocking. It's strapless. You have been warned..."_

_ Strapless? What in heaven's name does she mean her dress is strapless? Why would a dress need straps? Where would you even put them? Why would she think I need to be warned that hers doesn't have any? And what does she mean, she cannot remember the last time she wore a dress? What else would she wear? _

"Bella, you are driving me insane."

"Did you say something, dearest?"

Edward had been sitting in the darkened parlor twisting the lock of Bella's hair between his fingers. His eyes snapped up from the chestnut strands in surprise to see his mother walking down the stairs, fully dressed at–he looked at the clock on the table next to him, only just able to make out the time in the darkness–barely eight o'clock.

"What? Oh, no. Nothing of importance. I did not hear you come down. You are dressed early."

His mother walked to where the family portrait they had posed for last Christmas hung on the wall and lightly touched her fingers to his father's image. Edward took advantage of the few moments while her back was to him to quickly return the lock of Bella's hair to his father's pocket locket and had only just slipped it back into his pocket when his mother turned to him and took a deep breath.

"I thought I would go with you to the hospital today."

Walking over to him, she ran her hand over her skirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in the black fabric, and Edward looked up at her in admiration, took her hand, and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

"I think that would be wonderful."

Grateful for her son's quiet strength, Elizabeth squeezed his hand, closed her eyes, and nodded her head, as if assuring herself.

"Mother, there is no hurry. If you are not ready–"

Elizabeth breathed deeply and placed her other hand flat on her stomach, interrupting him. "No. No, enough is enough. It has been a month. I cannot stay cooped up in this house forever. It serves no purpose, and your father would not…" another deep breath, "your father would not wish it." She looked around the room suddenly realizing its darkened state. "Why in heaven's name are you sitting here in the dark?"

.

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

.

"Attention, passengers. The captain has indicated that we will be beginning our initial descent shortly. In preparation for landing, please assist your cabin crew by placing your seat backs and tray tables into their upright and locked position."

Bella put her book on her lap, stretched, and looked out her window. For the first time in her life she smiled at the sight of clouds. _Perfect._ Beneath them, the clouds stretched out as far as she could see like an ocean, and the sun was just starting to set, painting the sky pink and gold over the horizon. She had a small, disposable digital camera she'd picked up just for this, and she pulled it out of her purse. It was better than the camera in her phone. She had played around with it, taking and deleting several pictures, at the airport before her flight. Her seat was a few rows behind the wing, and she aimed the camera so she could get part of the wing in the shot. She pressed the button and the image appeared on the little LCD screen. _Perfect. There you go, Edward: One sunset from above the clouds. _Smiling to herself, Bella put her camera away. _The picture with the sun shining on the clouds will have to wait for the trip home. _

The flight attendants started walking through the cabin to make sure everyone had their seats and tray tables up and locked and to collect any trash, and at the glare from the approaching attendant, Bella hurried to put her table up.

"Bells!" Bella heard her dad, Charlie, before she saw him, and she stopped dead in her tracks. It was completely out of character for her father to shout like that, and embarrassed at the attention he'd drawn, she walked over to him slowly, glancing from side to side, sure everyone in the airport must've stopped what they were doing to stare at them. The hug he gave her was nothing like his normal, awkward one-armed squeeze; her father held her tighter and longer than normal, nearly lifting her off the ground before letting go. "It's good to see you, Bells."

"It's good to see you too, Dad."

Bella looked around them, looking for the mysterious Tanya she'd heard so much about, but didn't see any beautiful blonds hanging around. Looking both apologetic and disappointed, Charlie answered her question before she could ask it. "Something came up, Bells. Tanya had to go up to Alaska, some kind of a family emergency with one of her sisters. She didn't say much, but her cousins went up with her. It was real sudden. She's real sorry she couldn't be here." Her father went on to tell her that Tanya's cousin, Alice, had insisted on lending her some Forks appropriate clothes, namely warm boots and a heavy raincoat, which he had under his arm in a shopping bag. He handed them to her and took her carry-on bag.

"Courtesy of Alice Cullen. I hope they fit. Tanya said Alice had a feeling they would."

"This was really nice of her. She didn't have to do this." Bella sat down and took off her favorite strappy sandals, replacing them with the boots. "Wow, Dad these aren't just boots. These are Uggs. She lent me her _Uggs_?" Out the window Bella could see the rapidly darkening grey sky, and she grew anxious. "I don't know about this, Dad. These boots are really expensive. What if they get wet and get all marked up?"

Her father shook his head and laughed. "Trust me, Bells, just put 'em on. Tanya and Alice both insisted, and I wouldn't put it past either of them to call tonight to check and make sure you're wearing them. Tanya can be persistent, but Alice... that girl is like a force of nature."

"I'm sorry Tanya's not here." And she was. She'd been looking forward to meeting the woman who'd effected the changes she could already see in her normally stoic, reserved father. "I was looking forward to meeting her. I guess it'll have to wait until August."

Bella was still unconvinced about wearing what was probably a couple hundred dollars worth of footwear, but just looking out the floor to ceiling windows made her shiver, and she reluctantly but gratefully pulled them on, missing the look that passed over her father's face at her casual mention of returning to Forks in August. "Oh, wow, these are nice. Soft." She stood up and took a few steps. "They fit perfectly." Her carry-on was on the seat next to her, and she pulled out the scarf and gloves Edward's mother had made for her.

After wrapping the scarf around her neck and pulling on the gloves, she held her hand out for the coat. Charlie was laughing at her. "Bells? I think maybe a scarf and gloves may be overdoing it a bit. It was fifty-two this afternoon."

"It was seventy-eight when I left Phoenix, and that was low. It was ninety-one yesterday. Fifty-two is cold."

As she took the coat from his outstretched hand and slid her arm through the sleeve, Bella realized that in just the few minutes since she walked through the gate, she had already seen her father smile and laugh more than she normally would have during her entire visit. She didn't for one minute think his improved spirits were because of her. This Tanya was good for him; anyone could see that. Bella dropped her eyes to the floor. Her mom had found someone. Her father might have found someone. But the someone she wanted was forever out of her reach. Shaking off the sudden case of the dumps, Bella resolved to not think about how far Edward was from her. It did no good to dwell on it.

She looked at the loaned coat as she pulled it on; it was a soft, smooth material. "This is really nice. It's soft. I didn't know raincoats _could_ be soft. I thought they were all stiff and vinyl." The raincoat was a deep grape purple. It was belted, had a hood, and large, black buttons. It was lightweight but warm. Plus, the color looked great with her scarf and gloves.

Walking to the baggage claim beside her father to get her one checked bag, she thought about the Cullens and her father's friends on the rez.

_ This girl was kind enough to lend a $200 pair of boots to a stranger, and I'm sure this raincoat isn't from a discount store. I just don't get it. I may not have seen Billy Black for years, but I'm sure he's a good guy. It just doesn't make any sense. Why doesn't he just come out and say why he and the rest of the tribe don't like Tanya's family? There must be a reason. What could Tanya's family possibly have done that was so bad that he doesn't want to tell my dad? It can't just be jealousy. Can it? I'm sure I'll see him while I'm here. I'm going to have to confront him and find out what's going on. _

Once they were outside of Seattle, they pulled off the highway and stopped for a pizza. The rest of the ride was quiet, and Bella was asleep by the time reached they Forks, waking up a few blocks away from the small, two-bedroom house her dad bought with her mother before she was born.

After she put her things away, she looked around her old room... the old rocking chair in the corner, the dream catcher over the bed, the pale purple walls, the quilt on the bed made by her Gramma Swan.

_ This_ _is where I would've grown up if they'd stayed married. _This _would've been home. _

She went to the window and looked out over the back yard. She could just see the trees in the forest behind it through the darkness. It was raining lightly, and she sighed. They had driven past the small high school just as she was waking up. _I bet there are more kids in my sophomore class in Phoenix than there are in that entire school._ She wondered if she might not have liked that better, a small school versus a large one. _I bet they don't even have metal detectors. _

She was pulled from her wondering thoughts when her father knocked on her door. "Come in, Dad."

"All settled in?"

"Yup, all good."

"Good, good. Well, I just wanted to say good night."

"Good night, Dad." Her father was standing in her door looking uncomfortable, like there was something else he wanted to say. "Dad?"

"Yeah, Bells?"

"I'm glad I came."

Her father relaxed and came up to her, hugging her tight.

"I'm glad you came too, Bells. It's good to have you home."

.

.

The next morning when Bella woke up, she looked out her window. It was raining again. Or still. Whatever. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool glass.

_ Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day_. _ Preferably the day after I leave._

It wasn't long before she smelled blueberries and coffee, and her stomach rumbled.

_ Oh, God… _coffee_. It smells even better when it's cold and rainy. _

In the kitchen, her father was just pulling blueberry muffins out of the oven when she came downstairs. "Whoa, Dad? You _bake_?"

"Um, no. I do follow directions, though." He picked up a piece of paper off the counter. "Step one; night before, take frozen batter from freezer to thaw. Step two; morning, turn oven on and set at three fifty. Step three–and this one she's got it underlined. She thinks she's funny." Her father cleared his throat. "Step three; remove plastic wrap from thawed dough."

Bella stifled a laugh and interrupted her father. "Oh, Dad. You didn't. Please tell me you didn't put something in the oven with plastic wrap still on it."

"In my defense, I would just like to point out that they do make plastic roasting bags."

"I don't think those bags are really plastic, Dad, at least not the same kind."

"Well, I know that, _now._"

Bella laughed and covered her face with her hands. "How bad was it?"

"Well, there were no actual flames. It was nothing, really. Some of the plastic was touching the side of the oven, and it started to smoke a little." Her father turned serious. "Tanya was really scared. I didn't know it then, but her mother died in a fire a long time ago."

"Oh, that's terrible. No wonder she was scared. Who wouldn't be?"

Her father was quiet for a minute, rubbing his chin. "It was weird actually. I was home alone, heating up some leftovers from Esme, she's Dr. Cullen's wife. The next minute Tanya is running through the door, and we were outside before I even really realized she was even there. I only just smelled the smoke when she ran in the door."

Before Bella could comment her father continued, "Guys in the fire department got a good kick out of it."

A sudden loud and furious sounding howl rent the air, and Bella jumped and looked wide eyed out the window. "What the hell was that?"

Her father didn't answer her. He cursed under his breath, grabbed his shotgun, and looked right at her as he went out the back door. "Stay inside."

_ Yeah, right._

Following her father out onto the small back porch, Bella stood quietly three steps behind him. Her father was standing perfectly still, scanning the edge of the woods carefully, with the shotgun half raised and ready to fire.

After what seemed like ages he relaxed, and she spoke. "What are we looking for?"

Her father spun around, surprised and angry. "Dammit, Bella! I told you to stay inside!" He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her back inside. He set his shot gun down and took her face in his hands, looking nearly frantically in her eyes. "Bella, you are not in Arizona anymore. If I tell you to stay inside–_stay inside_!"

Shaken up herself, Bella couldn't imagine what had frightened her father so badly. "Dad, what _was_ that thing? That was no normal animal. That thing sounded… livid… incensed. It almost sounded half _human_."

Her father sat down tiredly and rubbed his hand over his face. "A bear. An enormous bear. There have been several sightings." He looked up at her, and Bella noticed for the first time just how tired he was. "There have been some disappearances. Hikers and campers. Their camp site was found wrecked, but there was no sign of them. Bella, DO NOT go into the woods."

A nervous lump had formed in her throat, and she swallowed passed it, her eyes moving of their own accord to the benign looking forest that edged her father's backyard. "Hadn't planned on it."

Her father ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "I nearly told you not to come, but there haven't been any sightings in town, only in the woods, hikers, mostly out by the rez."

"Out by the rez? Poor Billy, they must be frantic. Were the missing campers or hikers Quileutes?"

Leaning back, Charlie shook his head. "No, university kids home on break."

He was quiet for a moment, and Bella poured him a cup of coffee. "Thanks, Bells. I don't understand it. I warned Billy to make sure the kids on the rez stayed out of the woods till we got this thing, and he smiled."

_ "_He _smiled_? Some college kids go missing, and he _smiled?_"

"Oh, no. No, of course not. No, not about that. I warned him and the other elders to keep the kids on the rez out of the woods, and they seemed to think the idea that this bear was a threat to them was funny, like they were in on some inside joke that I didn't get."

Bella and her father ate quietly, each deep in thought, and as they finished and took their dishes to the sink, Bella mentioned to her father that she hoped she'd get a chance to see Billy while she was here.

"Actually, he wanted to see you, too. If you don't mind, the Mariners are on at two this afternoon, I was thinking maybe of calling them to come over. Their TV is just about kaput."

"Yeah, sure that sounds good. I'll make us something to eat. What do you have in the house?"

"You don't need to do that, Bells. Tanya left a week's worth of meals frozen, along with batter for muffins for every morning. They just need to be heated up."

Bella was already up and looking in the fridge. "Wow. This looks like more than a week's worth." She turned around and smiled at her father, thinking this thing with Tanya might be more serious than she'd realized and wishing again that she could've met her. "This Tanya takes good care of you."

Her father looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, she does. Oh, hey, want to see a picture of her?" She followed her dad into the living room. She hadn't really looked in this room yet. By the time they'd arrived last night, it was late, and she was tired. Then this morning she just walked passed it without really looking in. Now that she looked, she cringed at what she saw. Her father had several pictures of her lined up along the mantle. They ranged from her newborn picture from the hospital to this year's school picture.

Charlie picked up a picture in a shiny silver frame and handed it to her. "That's her."

Bella's eyes opened so wide she wouldn't have been surprised if they actually popped out of her head. She was looking at a picture of unquestionably the single most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life. Beautiful was so inadequate a word to describe the woman in the picture, it was almost an insult. "Wow. Um…. She's…. I mean, she's…. Wow."

Her father laughed at her. "Yeah, I know."

.

.

By the time Billy arrived, the rain had stopped, and the clouds had broken up somewhat. Bella followed her father outside to meet him and was startled to see the man who was getting Billy's wheelchair out of the back of a beat up, old, red pickup truck. He had to be at least six feet tall, had a long ponytail of jet black hair halfway down his back, and had the build of a serious weight lifter. He lifted the wheelchair out of the truck bed like it was a cheap plastic lawn chair.

"Bells, this is Jacob, Billy's son. You remember Jacob. You two used to make mud pies together when you were little."

_ He was little?_ _Wait. Billy's _son_? No, it can't be. That would make him only about fifteen. There's just no way._ She looked at Jacob again. _Unless…_ "Um, yeah. Sure, yeah, I remember."

Jacob's back was to them as he lifted his father out of the passenger seat and settled him into the wheelchair. Though she hadn't even yet seen his face, something about Jacob set Bella immediately on edge. The line of his shoulders was tense. His posture wasn't straight, but it was rigid, stiff. Everything about Jacob seemed to scream "threat" to her, and Bella involuntarily took a step backward. The moment she realized she'd taken that step, her own posture stiffened, and she stepped forward defiantly to stand directly beside her father.

With his father settled in his chair, Jacob turned around, and Bella thought there was a brief moment when his face looked nearly murderous before his eyes lit up, and he smile widely at her. Smiling like that, he almost looked like a little boy–granted a very biglittle boy–and she tried to push down the rumblings inside her that seemed to be telling her to get away from him. Trying to be rational, Bella told herself she had to have been mistaken, but something in her mind, some sixth sense she'd never been aware of before, insisted that for just a moment he had looked positively ferocious, and she thought there was still something that looked almost pained in his eyes. She felt very uneasy. Despite his boyish smile, Jacob's dark eyes were strained, and he'd looked like he was trying to ignore a really bad stench.

The savage howl from the night before echoed unexplainably through her mind.

Billy spoke as Jacob stepped behind his chair and began to push him toward the house. Just like his son's smile, Billy's casual tone did not mask the tension visible in his eyes. "Bella, it's good to see you again. I'm glad you're here." He looked at her father and grinned. "Your father hasn't shut up about it since you said you were coming."

Jacob had yet to speak, and his eyes kept returning to Bella. He had a strange look on his face, as if he had two powerful emotions battling with each other inside him. Billy looked up at him, and seeing that look, reached his hand up and laid it on his son's arm. His own expression mirrored that of his son. Their faces were filled with strong emotions, but Bella couldn't tell what they were really feeling. Hope? Fear? She thought it might be both.

Jacob looked down at his father and just barely shook his head before continuing to push his father's wheelchair toward the house. Billy let out a breath and looked at her again, still with strong, conflicting emotions visible on his face, but this time she couldn't tell if it was disappointment or relief. Again she thought it might've been both. He looked up at his son behind him. "Don't forget the pizzas."

"Billy, I told you I had lasagna from Tanya in the oven. You didn't have to bring anything." Bella observed her father as he spoke. He sounded like he was trying hard to be polite but was only just holding in his temper, and she could see the strain in his face. _Are they so against her that they even refuse to eat anything she made?_

"And I told you it was no trouble. You provide the flat screen, the least we can do is provide the thin crust."

Jacob wheeled his father up to the porch and got him up the few steps much more easily than Bella would've thought possible, even given his size. She kept her eyes on Billy as he spoke. There was just as much strain on his face as there was on her father's, but he was making more of an effort to appear relaxed. Whatever the reason behind the tension was, Billy was more accustomed to it that her father. He was better as masking it, but it was still unmistakably there.

"You've got a teenager in the house now, Charlie. Believe me," Billy looked from her father to her, and the forced smile slipped when he saw how carefully she was watching him, "You have no idea how much they can eat."

Bella's and Billy's eyes were locked on each other's, and she made herself look away, forcing a smile of her could act like nothing was wrong, too. "I'll get them. Are they in the cab?" Billy said yes and thanked her. Jacob still hadn't spoken.

A weird, uneasy prickling ran up her spine, and an heavy knot settled uncomfortably in her stomach. Something wasn't just strange; it was wrong, dangerously wrong. Bella didn't know how she knew that, but she did. She had questions, and she wanted answers. Getting the pizzas out of the truck gave Bella a moment to think about how she was going to approach getting those answers. _Who do I tackle first? The father or the son? I could appeal to Billy, say I'm concerned about Tanya's influence over my dad. That could work. But I have to get him alone._

Without admitting to herself that for some reason the son made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, she resolved to try the father first and turned her thoughts to how to get him alone. Thinking only about how to get Billy alone for a few minutes, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going, and she tripped over the threshold, causing the top box of pizza to slide forward. Jacob's hands shot out so quickly to grab it before it could fall that she was shocked still for a moment. "Wow, um… Good catch…. You've got some reflexes."

As he took them from her, Bella could see his blush even through his golden honey complexion. "I'll, um, I'll… just take these to the kitchen." It surprised her how deep his voice was for his age, but she thought that given how big he was, it shouldn't have.

She followed him into the kitchen and got plates out as he set the boxes down on the counter, she asked, "What are they?"

Jacob's head snapped up, and he looked at her in shock, opening and closing his mouth several times while his eyes darted between her and the living room. He finally settled his eyes on her and looked at her like she had just told him she was being abducted by aliens. "What are _who_?"

The thought Bella'd had upon first seeing him returned to the front of her mind. _Yup. That's why he's so big. This is your brain on steroids._ "The pizzas. What kind are they?"

"Oh! Oh. Oh, right. Right. The pizzas. Um…. One's plain and one's pepperoni."

Once the game came on, the tension from earlier faded notably, and Billy and her father were just like the old friends watching a game that they were. Bella sat back and watched them. Every once in while she caught Jacob looking at her, and every time she caught him, he would and look away quickly. Bella, her father, and Billy finished one of the pies between the three of them. Jacob ate one by himself.

It was about halfway through the game, and the Mariners were up one to nothing. The Minnesota Twins were batting and had a man on second with one out. Her father and Billy were talking easily, and her father was finishing his last piece of pizza. The batter hit a deep fly ball, and the man on second took off running at the crack of the bat. The right fielder caught the ball in the corner against the wall, just fair. The runner was around third and halfway home when the ball was caught. He turned quickly, stumbling as he did, and tried to get back to second, but the outfielder had a strong arm and threw him out easily.

Bella smiled as she remembered Edward's first baseball lesson. That was the same play he told her about making. More to herself than to the others she said, "Double play."

Her father and Billy's conversation came to an abrupt halt, and she looked over at them. All three of them were staring at her. Her father had a half-eaten slice of pizza raised halfway to his mouth.

"What? It was a double play, wasn't it? I thought I at least had that one down."

Billy laughed. "Yeah, it was a double play, alright. So, who's the guy? Tough luck, Jake." Jacob looked embarrassed and mumbled, "Thanks, Dad."

Bella smiled at him, trying to be friendly. No one knew how embarrassing parents could be as well as she did–her father shouting across the airport to her came to her mind. "There is no _guy_." _Well, yeah, there is, actually. But, we won't go there. _"I just did a project for school with one of the guys on the team at school, and he talked about baseball a lot."

As uncomfortable as he made her feel, Bella tried to pay more attention to Jacob after that and tried several times to talk to him. He was nervous and stuttered at first, but his confidence seemed to grow the more she made an effort to talk to him, and they were soon laughing together like they were the ones who had been friends all their lives.

_ We could've been. If they'd never gotten divorced, this would be home, and we would've been friends all our lives. _

She felt sad at the thought, like she'd missed out on something she'd have liked to have had. The Mariners scored again in the top of the ninth, and Bella knew this was her chance. She had decided while talking to Jacob that she would try to get information from him instead. She felt bad, knowing she was about to give her new friend the third degree, but she needed information.

The guilt she felt must've showed on her face because Jacob asked what she was thinking about. "Penny for your thoughts." The smile he gave her was so brilliant and he was looking at her so appreciatively that a realization suddenly hit her, and Bella was shocked. _Crap. Now I really feel bad. _But she was resolved, and she reminded herself it wasn't like it really mattered anyway. It wasn't like she lived here. She was only here for a few days.

"Jacob, could you help me with the dishes in the kitchen?"

Jacob said sure and hopped up readily, and his father laughed at him as they left the room. "Way to play hard to get there, Jake."

Not willing to risk his becoming quiet and nervous again, Bella tried to laugh his father's comment off. "Parents. Can't take'em anywhere."

He laughed, letting out a deep breath as he did. "So, what do you think of Forks so far? Ready to go running back to Phoenix yet? God, the sun _every day_, I can't even imagine it."

Though she had no experience whatsoever, Bella planned to try to flirt the information out of him. She had seen other girls at school do it countless times, surely she could just do what they did, right? As big as Jacob was, he was only fifteen. How much experience could he possibly have with girls? She looked at him smiling his brilliant smile at her and realized that looking like he did, even at fifteen, he could have an awful lot of experience with girls.

_ Stop it. Just stop it. You can do this. You have to do this. You need answers. And besides, if you're a total failure, and he laughs in your face, you're leaving in a few days anyway. Maybe then you can guilt the information out of him._

With a deep breath to steel her nerves, Bella tucked her hair behind her ear, looked up at him through her eyelashes like she'd seen other girls do, and gave him what she hoped was a coy smile. "Honestly, I was just thinking it might've been nice to grow up in Forks. We could've been friends since we were little. I think I'd have liked that. You're sixteen, like me, right?"

She must've done it right because Jacob's mouth fell open for a second before he snapped it shut, and she could see the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed. "I… I just… I just turned fifteen."

Bella was prepared to act surprised, but she didn't have to act. Actually, she had to fight to keep her own mouth from falling open. _"Just turned fifteen! Just turned? I knew he was fifteen, but I thought he had to be nearly sixteen._

"You're surprised. I know I'm big for my age."

"Just a little bit."

An odd look passed through his eyes, it looked like a combination of resentment and pride. "A lot of us are on the rez. Runs in our blood."

_ The other kids on the rez are as big as him? Holy crap. _She bit her lip and looked up at him through her eyelashes again. _Hey, it worked the first time._ She looked briefly toward the living room before leaning in closer to him, putting her hand on his arm, and whispering, "Hey, Jake? I was hoping I could ask you something"

He answered her nearly breathlessly. "Anything."

She glanced toward the living room again, implying she didn't want to be overheard by their fathers, what she wanted to ask was secret between them. "It's my dad. This Tanya he's seeing. She seems to… have a lot of, _influence_, over him. I know she's got family new in town, what can you tell me about them?"

Jacob's face darkened instantly at Tanya's name, and she saw the same murderous look in his eyes she thought she'd seen when she first saw him. She had to fight down the urge to leave the room immediately.

When Jacob spoke his voice was almost a growl. "Keep your father away from that leech if you want what's good for him."

Bella was shocked and frightened at the complete change that came over him, but she forced herself to go on. "Jacob… Jake, what do you know?"

He turned his back to her, leaning on the kitchen counter and glaring out the back window. His hands were balled into fists, and he was shaking. She could see he was making a real effort to calm down. "Jacob? What's wrong?" She squeezed his hand, and she gasped. "Jeez! Jacob, you're burning up! I'll get your dad, you must be getting sick."

"I'm not sick." It took several deep breaths before he was calm enough to say more. He was still glaring out the back window. "I'm not allowed to talk about it. I'm sorry, Bella. I wish I could, I really do. Just… just keep him away from her. Please. He won't listen to us. She's got him brainwashed. They've all got him brainwashed. It's what _they_ do."

Goosebumps sprang up and down Bella's spine. "_They? _Brainwashed? What are you talking about?"

At that moment, Billy called to his son from the other room. "Jake? Sorry to break it up out there. I know how much you just love to do dishes, but you about ready to go?"

Jacob closed his eyes and let out a frustrated breath through his nose. "Yeah, Dad. Coming." He paused on his way out of the kitchen and looked back at her again. "Just keep him away from her, Bella, please. Charlie's like family. We don't want to see him get hurt. Or worse."

Truly frightened now, Bella tried to get more information. "Hurt _or worse_?Jacob, what _the hell _are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry. I am. I wish I could tell you, but I can't. I really can't."

.

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

.

Edward had been sitting at his piano absently playing a few notes, but his mind was straying between thoughts of his father, his mother, and Bella, and he finally gave it up as a lost cause. Today had been a long day, but he was restless and had too many thoughts running through his head to be able to sleep.

It was well after midnight, and he had come back downstairs a few minutes ago. He had come to his piano, hoping that if he played for a while it would soothe him, but he was unable to concentrate enough to do anything more than just pluck randomly at the keys. His fingers stilled, and he sighed tiredly as he looked around him, his thoughts drifting back to his father. He could see his father in every corner of the house.

His eyes settled on the chess board on the shelf in the next room, and he slowly lowered the fall over the keys and walked across the room. Picking up the black king, he thought about the last time he and his father played chess, and he realized he was beginning to be able to think of his father without his last hours overriding all else. He let his eyes fall shut and held the piece tightly in his hand as his mind wandered from one memory to the next. As he opened his eyes and looked at the chess piece in his hand, he wished he had had more time with his father, and his thoughts turned to Bella's visit with her father. He rubbed his hand over his face and ran it through his hair, shaking his head. "Good lord. Flying."

While thinking about Bella's visit to her father, he suddenly thought of Dr. Cullen. _The family she mentioned, new in town, wealthy, beautiful, but unaccepted. It is the same with Dr. Cullen. And the father is a doctor. She mentioned her father suspected it was this family who donated money to pay for that fireman's medical bills. I wonder… Peter Lord, could his unknown benefactor have been Dr. Cullen? And the phonograph and records. He mentioned getting a new phonograph and having an extensive collection of records at the 4__th__ of July picnic, could he have donated his old one? _

After several more minutes Edward was pulled from his thoughts by the old grandfather clock in the formal parlor chiming 1:00. _"1:00 and I am still wide awake. I will never be able to function tomorrow. Or today I suppose I should say. Perhaps I should have taken a Veronal like Dr. Cullen suggested, as Mother did._

He decided to return to his room to write to Bella. It would still be another four days before she would receive it, but he needed the sense of contentment that writing to her always gave him. He sat at their desk and placed the black king next to his ink well.

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_August 12, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_It is very late at night, but I am unable to sleep. Or, I suppose I should say it is very early and have dated this for the 13th, as it is after 1:00 A.M. Today was indeed difficult, but I think it was a good day. I was very surprised this morning when my mother came downstairs and said she wanted to return to the hospital. The hospital was very busy, and we were there later than normal. They were understaffed already due to so many doctors and nurses having left to serve in the military and have lost still more in the past weeks. _

_I hope you are enjoying your visit with your father. I cannot imagine reading a book while flying on an aeroplane. It must be fascinating. How you can possibly read a book I cannot imagine. I would be like a child on Christmas morning, unable to stop looking around at the clouds. _

_I thought about my father a great deal today, this evening especially. It is becoming easier to think of him. One of my biggest regrets is that owing to the poor weather we have had this summer, we were unable to go on any drives or picnics. Most summers we would take a drive and picnic somewhere as often as possible on the weekends. My father bought a new car this past spring, a Cadillac Type 57 Touring Car. It is the same car the government uses for military officers. He loved to drive, and that car was his most prized possession. He talked of taking it out on long drives and really seeing what it could do, but he never got the chance. It made my mother nervous, but I loved it when he would drive fast. It has a top speed of 70 miles an hour. He never went anywhere near that speed that I know of, and certainly not that my mother knew of. I have not yet exceeded 50 myself. My mother would have my hide if she knew._

_Did I ever tell you he and I went to the first game of the World Series last year? It was a great game. Happy Felsch hit a home run and we won by a run. New York nearly came back in the 8th when they got on after an error, but there were already two out, and their runner got picked off. I wish we had gotten to go to more games this year, but at least we got to the one on my birthday. My parents gave me my first baseball and mitt for my 6th birthday. I still have them in a box in my closet. I remember my father taught me to throw and catch, and we spent the entire day in the back yard. My mother made my favorite, yellow cake with chocolate icing and strawberry ice cream. My parents had a party for me the next weekend and all my cousins and friends were there. My cousin, Timothy, Uncle Richard's son, couldn't come as he had chicken pox. It was great. I ended up getting chicken pox, too, the next week, as did my other cousins. It was terrible; I remember it itched everywhere. Even the insides of my eyelids itched. I still have a scar on my right shoulder. My throat was so sore I could hardly swallow. I remember, my mother made strawberry ice cream for me, and for nearly two weeks that was practically all I ate. I may have pretended my throat still hurt a day or two longer than it really did, but I really do love my mother's strawberry ice cream. _

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Edward set his pen down and yawned. He rubbed his shoulder, directly over his scar. He had not thought about that in years, and he didn't know why he suddenly remembered it. Honestly, he was surprised he remembered it at all.

The house was so quiet, he could clearly hear the grandfather clock downstairs chime the hour. _Two o'clock. In another 18 minutes…_._ Is that why I can't sleep? Have I been waiting, without realizing it, for the exact moment he died? _

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Edward picked up his father's pocket locket, which he kept on the table beside his bed while he slept, and waited. Struggling now to stay awake, he yawned again. _Just a few minutes longer. _He could hear the rain begin to fall again outside his window as he lay down. Lying flat on his back, Edward listened to the rain and the ticking of the clock on his bedside table. The grandfather clock chimed the quarter hour, but it was much quieter than the chime on the hour, and he only heard it because he was listening for it and the formal parlor was directly below his bedroom. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. _I miss you, Father. I miss you so much. _Focusing all his attention on the ticking of his clock, he slowly turned his head to the side and watched the second hand as it moved around the face of the clock. _2:16… 2:17… _He squeezed his eyes shut and waited. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. _2:18._

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I'm about to become a grandmother for the first time, and I would very much like to see the little guy, so please don't kill me. Sorry, but no vampire Edward just yet. You do get Jacob, though.

I would just like to be clear - this IS NOT a Jacob bashing story. More on that later. My wolves are a little different. They don't only phase after the threat has wiped out half the tribe. There are always a few wolves to protect the tribe, then as they age, new ones replace them. So the legend isn't just a legend, it is every day reality for everyone in the tribe.

A quick shout out to my husband and brother who will be particiapting in the Warrior Dash this weekend in support of St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital! Woohooo!

Check out Fictionators (Teaser Mondays) or Twi Fic Central (Twi Fic Teaser Bites – updated on Wednsedays) for a teaser for chapter 15!

Loved it, hated it, let me know!


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you to my PTB betas for this chapter, thir13enth, bigblueboat, and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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On Easter morning Bella awoke to the sound of pounding rain and wind against her bedroom window. She groaned in annoyance, rolled onto her side, and put her pillow over her head trying to block out the noise. When that didn't work, she reached out and pulled the blanket over her head too. Finally conceding defeat, Bella flung her blanket and pillow off angrily, and she sat up in bed–her hair flying in a static halo around her head–and glowered at the window like it was personally responsible for waking her up.

_ And to think some people actually listen to _Rainstorms _on white noise machines to HELP them sleep. _

Her shoulders drooped, and she sighed in disappointment. She had been dreaming about Edward again and was not happy about having the dream interrupted. Since that first night she dreamed of dancing with him, she had dreamed of him several times, and the dreams had definitely progressed. Thinking about the things they did together in her dreams made her blush.

And bite her lip to keep from moaning.

She sometimes felt guilty when she remembered her dreams. Edward was her _friend_, and she felt like she was somehow betraying his trust in her by dreaming about him… _like that_. But, her dreams were just that–only dreams.

She would never have him in reality, never put her arms around him, never kiss him, never feel him pressed up against her.

That would all belong to someone else.

_ Someday he is going to write to me and tell me he's in love. How long after that until he tells me he's asked her to be his wife? Will he tell me how he proposed? He'll get down on one knee, I know it. When he looks into the face of the woman he loves and puts a ring on her finger, it won't be me. It won't be me._

While sitting in her bed feeling thoroughly depressed and sorry for herself, Bella caught a whiff of something that promised to pick up her mood.

_ Is that… chocolate?_

Getting out of bed, she grabbed her robe and went downstairs, drawn by the scent. "Morning, Dad. Happy Easter. Do I smell chocolate?" Her father was sitting at the kitchen table listening to the news. Pulled by the aroma, she walked straight to the counter and a tray of just-out-of-the-oven chocolate muffins. "Oh, God. These. Are. _Amazing_."

_ I'd gladly put up with rain every day for these. _

Bella's eyes fluttered closed as she savored the warm muffin.

_ "Oh, God. The chips are still melted. Oh, with vanilla bean ice cream..." _"Mmmm. Dad?"

"Yeah, Bells?"

"I really, really like Tanya."

Her dad laughed. "Yeah. Me, too."

Bella joined her dad at the table with a cup of coffee and another muffin, licking melted chocolate off her fingers. "What's on the news?"

"Flu epidemic down in Mexico. I guess it's been going on for a couple months now, but it's only just being reported. You get your flu shot every year right?"

"Please, Mom and shots? If there's a shot for it, I get it."

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"Chief Swan, good to see you. We've missed you since Christmas."

On their way out of the church on Easter morning, Bella and her father were stopped and greeted by everyone in attendance. It seemed half the town had turned out and had spent most of mass turning in what Bella supposed they thought was a casual, inconspicuous manner to gape at them. She'd heard "Chief's daughter" and "Arizona" whispered not so quietly multiple times.

Only in a town this small could everyone know or care when someone's kid was visiting.

The downpour from earlier that morning had tapered off to a light rain, but it was still cold–not even reaching fifty degrees–and the wind was picking up. Bella was grateful that, at least so far, Alice Cullen's borrowed raincoat and boots along with Edward's scarf and gloves were keeping the damp and cold out.

Billy had invited them out to the rez for Easter dinner, and she was more than ready to go. They were now, finally, at the end of the line of well-wishers and speaking to a man her father had just introduced her to as Pastor Weber.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella. What do you think of Forks? It must be quite a change for you."

"Yes, sir. It's very different." Really, how many times could she say, _"Yeah, small, rainy, and cold sure is different from big, sunny, and hot."_

A tall girl about Bella's age came up to Pastor Weber with two young twin boys, and he introduced them to Bella. "Bella, these are my kids, Angela, Joshua, and Isaac. Kids, this is Chief Swan's daughter, Bella. She's here visiting from Arizona."

The boys were about as interested in meeting a girl as little boys usually were and asked their dad impatiently if it was almost time to leave yet. Angela seemed nice, Bella thought. She was the first person her own age she'd met, with the exception of Jacob, and she was the first person she'd met since coming to Forks who didn't make any kind of comment on how different tiny-and-rainy Forks must be to big-and-sunny Phoenix.

That alone was enough for Bella to like her.

As a boy their age with dark hair and glasses walked towards them, Bella noticed that Angela suddenly seemed nervous. She began to fidget, and her eyes dropped to the floor. A pink blush had spread across her cheeks.

Bella also noticed that this boy was the first person she'd seen since coming to Forks who didn't seem to notice she even was there. He only had eyes for Angela.

Angela stammered an introduction. "Um, Bella. This is, this is Ben Cheney."

The boy in question glanced at her for barely a second before looking back at Angela. "Oh. Hi. Bella? It's nice to meet you. Hey, Ang, some of us are talking about going to Port Angeles tomorrow. See a movie. You in?"

Angela nodded her head, radiantly happy he'd asked her even if it was a just group thing, and looked at Bella, giving her a friendly smile. "Would you like to come, Bella?"

Though the thought had clearly never occurred to him before, Ben agreed that she should come. Bella thought to herself that he would probably agree to anything Angela suggested.

Normally, Bella would be embarrassed at being invited to something she was so clearly not a part of, like it was done out of obligation rather than the person actually really wanting her there, but coming from Angela the invitation sounded so genuine she found herself wishing she could accept. "I can't, I'm sorry. My flight home leaves Seattle at two tomorrow." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Thanks for asking, though."

Before saying their final goodbyes, Bella pulled her camera out of her purse and asked Pastor Weber if he would take a picture of her and her father together. Her father didn't like having his picture taken any more than she did, but he cooperated, stood next to her, and smiled for the camera.

Now, they were finally headed off to the rez for dinner. This was her last chance to get information. Bella had spent the past couple days trying to think how to get it, and there was a green bean casserole on the passenger seat of her dad's car that was central to her plan.

_ If this fails, I could always hit them with the casserole dish 'til they tell me why they don't like Tanya._

The towering trees flew passed them as they drove down the highway, and Bella watched them go, thinking how odd it was to not be able to see farther than a few yards. In Phoenix, it sometimes felt like she could see forever. She felt mesmerized by the contrast of the rain-darkened trees, their trunks looking almost black against the pale gray sky as they sped passed her window. And there were so many shades of green: the varied dark greens of the evergreens, the soft golden greens of the new leaves just sprouting on the deciduous maples and alders.

They turned off the highway and onto a smaller road. The trees here were almost touching, their branches reaching out across the road toward their neighbors on the other side. Bella thought that in the summer, with the branches reaching overhead covered with a dense crown of leaves, it must give the effect of driving through a green tunnel.

A sudden shudder passed through her; for a moment her eyes played tricks on her, and Bella thought she saw something move deep in the trees. Her thoughts drifted for a moment to the story her dad told her about the enormous bear and the missing campers. She shivered involuntarily. _How deep would you have to go in those woods before you couldn't see the road?_ she wondered. Not too far, she didn't think. A growing sense of apprehension settled in her stomach. She was uncomfortable. The never ending sea of trees had held her mesmerized on the wide open highway, but on this narrow road with the towering trees no longer just running alongside of them but looming over head, encircling them, she felt uneasy, and Bella was relieved when they pulled up in front of what she assumed must be the Black's house.

Billy and Jacob's house was small and wooden, with narrow windows and faded red paint. There was a thick copse of trees and shrubs behind the house, beyond which stood what looked like two big, preformed sheds put together to form a work shop or garage of some kind.

Jacob came out of the house to greet them and was followed by another boy just as big as himself and a girl who seemed a little older. The two were obviously a couple, and with a scowl on his face, the boy moved to stand in front of the girl as if to shield her from something.

"Bells, this is Billy's daughter, Rachel. You remember Rachel."

Bella mentally rolled her eyes at her father. He seemed to think she remembered every single person living in or around Forks whom she had ever met.

Trying to be friendly, Bella ignored the scowling boy and smiled at Rachel while stepping forward with the casserole dish in her hand to say hello, which only caused the boy to move forward toward her and sneer. She stepped quickly back next to her father, shocked, and Jacob leapt down the porch stairs and came to stand directly in front of them defensively.

Bella swore she heard him growl.

Her father took her arm and moved half a step in front of her.

A third Quileute boy, even bigger than Jacob and this other boy, rushed out of the house and spoke to in a very low voice, which Bella could not hear well enough to understand but which clearly held authority. Rachel held the second boy's arm tightly, quickly and quietly saying something to him before stepping away and coming down the stairs towards them.

Rachel was barely two steps away from him when the boy called her name in what Bella thought might have been the most desperate voice she'd ever heard. If he hadn't completely freaked her out, she might've felt sorry for him.

But he had. And she didn't.

Looking back over her shoulder at him, Rachel gave him a hard look that clearly said, "Because I said so." Turning to Bella and her father, she smiled and said, "I'm sorry about that. Please don't mind Paul. He's not feeling well."

Silently Bella said to herself, _Maybe he needs to up his meds._

Bella hadn't noticed Billy roll himself out onto the porch until she heard her dad talk to him.

"Billy, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe we should just leave."

Her father's broken voice reminded Bella of the telephone call two months ago when he'd first told her Billy and he had been fighting about Tanya, and she straightened her back and, stepping forward, met Paul's angry eyes. _Oh, hell no. Save the attitude buddy. You are _so not_ messing this up for my dad. _"No, Dad. I'm sure it will be fine." Her eyes never left Paul's as she spoke, and she was surprised to hear the hard edge in her own voice.

It must've surprised everyone else too because there were now not only Paul's, but five other pairs of eyes focused on her as well.

Even more of a surprise to Bella was the realization that for the first time, being the center of attention didn't embarrass her. It was like something awoke inside her, and she felt the unexplainable urge to bare her teeth and snarl at the boy named Paul. She and Paul continued to stare each other down until Jacob spoke, and Paul, unwillingly, pulled his eyes from hers to meet his glare. "There Will Be No Problem."

Bella had been impressed with the hard edge in her own voice, but it was nothing compared to the razor's edge in Jacob's. There was no doubt that what he said was anything less than an order; the authority in his voice was absolute.

The older boy on the porch nodded his head at Jacob once before he looked at Billy and said something that sounded like, "It's waiting on their side. It knows we're watching it." But that made no sense at all, and Bella was sure she'd misheard.

He gave her father a cold look before leaving without saying a word to either of them, and Bella watched him go with an equally cold look of her own and waved with her free hand. "Nice to meet you, too. Happy Easter."

His and Paul's behavior was unquestionably rude, but Bella could not understand the aggression she felt toward them. She was not normally an aggressive person, and it seemed an overreaction to their rudeness.

Jacob turned to her and tried to smooth things over, but Bella cut him off. "Don't mind Sam, Bella, he's–"

"Not feeling well either?"

Hesitantly, Rachel came forward and took the casserole dish from Bella. "I'm really sorry, Bella, please excuse us. We're all a bit upset. Sam's girlfriend, Emily, got hurt. She was attacked by a bear. She'll be OK, but the doctor at the clinic said the scarring will be really bad." She continued in a very quiet voice. "Sam's devastated. He's on his way back there now."

Bella instantly felt all the air gush from her lungs. She felt terrible at how rude she'd been to someone in Sam's circumstances. "Oh, my God. That's terrible. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I had no idea. No wonder he's upset."

Billy cut in. "Now, Charlie, before you go getting any ideas, it was just a normal bear, and anyways it's taken care of. Please don't worry about it. We're fine."

Again, Bella's thoughts returned to the huge bear her father said had been spotted near the rez, and she looked over at him. Judging by the look on his face, he was worried in spite of Billy's assurances.

Rachel urged everyone into the house, and once the Mariners game came on things relaxed somewhat, but none of the guys talked. Bella insisted on helping Rachel in the kitchen, and the two girls talked while they finished getting dinner ready.

"So, how long have you and Paul been together?"

Rachel smiled bashfully. "Really, just a few days. I mean, I've known him all my life, of course, but we never really noticed each other. He's a couple years younger than me. I came home from college a week ago, and… he came over to see Jake, and… that was that."

"The rest, as they say, is history?"

Rachel laughed, and Bella noticed how her whole face lit up. She couldn't help but be a little jealous; Rachel was so obviously over the moon about her new relationship. Bella really was happy for the other girl, even though they'd just met, but she couldn't help but think of Edward and wish she could have just a little of that kind of happiness for herself.

"Hey, Bella, you OK? You looked a little sad." A knowing look came into Rachel's eyes, "Oh, I bet I know. You must be missing your guy back in Arizona. Don't worry about it. You're going home tomorrow, right? You'll see him soon."

Bella didn't answer, but she managed to force a smile on to her face, and Rachel seemed to take that as confirmation.

As the two of them finished everything up, Bella watched the other girl. _We would've been friends. If I'd grown up here, we'd have been friends. _Again she couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like to grow up here instead of in Phoenix.

She thought about the girl she met after church, Angela. _We'd have gone to school together._ Try as she might, Bella couldn't think of anyone out of the hundreds of kids in her sophomore class who had ever, in all the years they'd gone to school together, invited her anywhere and seemed as genuine as Angela had. Sure, when they were young and someone had a birthday party, it was customary that everyone in their classroom was _invited_ to the party. But it was always perfectly clear which kids were actually _wanted _at the party.

Bella couldn't remember ever being one of those kids.

She couldn't remember the last time any of the kids she went to school with invited her anywhere, or think of any of them she would want to go anywhere with. _I am completely pathetic. I am sixteen years old and my only friends are a seventeen-year-old boy living in a different century and a five-year-old. _

However, as soon as she thought about Edward, Bella knew she wouldn't trade growing up in Phoenix for anything. She never would've known him otherwise.

Dinner was ready to be served, and Bella and Rachel were putting everything in Rachel and Jacob's late mother's good dishes, which had belonged to her mother before her.

Bella said, "It must stink that you are going back to school so soon, but I guess it won't be long till you're home for the summer, though."

"Oh. Actually, I'm not going back. We talked about it, and I'm going to stay home and finish online."

"What? Why?" Bella looked at her in complete shock.

Rachel smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, Paul and I talked about it, and he really wants me here. I don't want him to worry about me. So, I'm going to stay here and finish up online. It's no big deal. It's for the best, really."

_ Now, wait just one freakin' minute here. This is most certainly a big freakin' deal. _Bella looked at Rachel in disbelief. "You're saying…. Wait. You're saying... _you're leaving college_… because a guy you've been going out with for _a few days_ wants you to stay home? What did your dad say? He must've flipped."

Rachel smiled and shrugged her shoulders again, as if this was perfectly normal, as if it made all the sense in the world, and she couldn't understand why she, Bella, seemed surprised. "Dad understood. He agreed."

"You've _got_ to be kidding."

Rachel actually laughed and looked at her like she was the crazy one. "No. Really, Bella. It's no big deal. And I'm not really leaving, I'm not dropping out, I'm just finishing from home."

Bella forced herself to bite her tongue and not argue that, yes, in fact, it was a very big deal, because the truth was that she and Rachel were not friends, they did not grow up together, and as outraged as she was, it just wasn't her place. Besides, Easter dinner certainly wasn't the time. _Maybe I can mention to Dad to just casually let some statistics on controlling, abusive boyfriends slip. And Billy's upset about Dad's girlfriend? Sounds like he better worry about his own daughter._

Dinner was served and eaten quietly. There were no arguments, but nor was there any laughter. There were practically no leftovers, which surprised Bella. The ham had been huge for just the six of them, and there had been rolls and potatoes and several other side dishes, including the green bean casserole, which Bella was glad to note Jacob had more than one serving of. Actually, she noticed that both Jacob and Paul had more than one serving of everything and had probably eaten twice as much between the two of them than the other four combined.

Rachel stood up to do the dishes, but Bella stood up and stopped her. "No. Rachel, I insist. You made a wonderful dinner. You sit down." She looked down at Jacob where he sat next to her and tried to copy the look she gave him the other day, just looking down rather than up. "Jacob and I will clean up. Right, Jake?"

Just like last time, Jacob jumped up to help her. "Right. Yes. Absolutely."

As they carried plates out to the kitchen, Bella could hear Billy say, "Way to play it cool, Jake." While they worked, Bella made small talk as best she could, and Jacob seemed to be loosening up.

Once, when she was going back to the table to bring out more dishes, she passed Paul on his way to the kitchen. He didn't even look at her. _He seems charming, really. What on earth does she see in him?_

Just as Bella was walking back into the kitchen, she heard Paul and Jacob whispering angrily. She looked behind her to make sure she wasn't in view from the table and listened just outside the kitchen door. She couldn't understand what they were saying and strained to listen closer, but all she was able to make out was Paul's angry, "How can you stand the smell? It's making me sick."

_ Yeah, you've clearly got a real sensitive stomach. Jerk face. _Deciding she wasn't going to catch anymore she walked back into the kitchen with her arm full of dirty dishes. Paul glared at her and left the room. _No. Really, that's OK. We don't need any help. You've worked hard stuffing your face. You must be tired. Why don't you go sit down and dictate to your girlfriend what she is and is not allowed to do. God, he's a jerk. _Out loud she said, "Everything OK? I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"No, everything's fine."

Bella did not think everything sounded fine.

Bella struggled to keep making small talk, but Jacob seemed too tense after his argument with Paul, and she wasn't getting anywhere. She was getting nervous. They had what little leftovers there were wrapped up in aluminum foil and in the fridge and had nearly all the dishes done. She was running out of time.

Desperate, Bella brought the Mariners' game up and intentionally said something wrong. "It's great the Mariners won today. They wiped the A's."

That did it. Jacob barked out a laugh. "They what?"

"I said it was great they won."

"No, no. I mean the other part."

"They wiped the A's?"

"Oh, my God, Bella. They _wiped_ the A's? It's, 'They _swept_ the A's.'"

"Oh, sorry. Wiped. Swept. What's the difference?"

Jacob doubled over laughing, holding his stomach, unable to answer.

_ Perfect. Showtime. _Trying to sound insulted Bella said, "Are you quite finished?"

Still bent over and unable to answer, Jacob shook his head no and waved his hand at her, gasping, "Wiped... Oh, God..."

Bella folded her arms across her chest and arched her eyebrow, trying to look annoyed, "It wasn't that funny."

Jacob was wheezing now. "Yes, it was."

He did look up at her now though, and she must've had the annoyed look she was going for down perfect, because he straightened right up and tried to stop laughing. "Right. Not that funny. Sorry." But unable to control himself, he started laughing again.

This was working perfectly now, Bella thought to herself. _Now, to go in for the kill._ "So, you and your friend Paul seemed to like dinner, you both ate enough."

Jacob was getting his laughing under control, and he was trying to give her an innocent, apologetic look, "Yeah, it was great. I really am sorry, Bella, but I haven't laughed like that in a long time, and I really needed it."

_ Save the puppy dog eyes. They won't save you now. _"It's OK. Everyone needs to laugh sometimes. I'm glad you liked dinner. Did you like the green bean casserole?"

"Yeah it was great."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"It was great, I had, like, four helpings."

"That's good. I'm sure Tanya will be happy to hear that. She made it."

Bella had her head turned away from him slightly, but she was looking right at him out of the corners of her eyes. The change that came over him was immediate and complete. All traces of laughter were gone instantly and his copper colored skin turned white then green. She wouldn't have been surprised if he leaned over the sink and made himself throw up.

Without giving him a chance to recover, she turned to face him fully. "Start talking."

"Wha… _What_?"

"I said, Start. Talking."

Jacob was beginning to look like he was going to be sick without having to force himself.

"The tribe doesn't like the Cullen's or Tanya. I want to know why. And you are going to tell me."

Jacob didn't say anything, and Bella could see his throat muscles working as he swallowed over and over, like he was trying _not_ to be sick.

"I've heard of people turning green, Jacob, but I've never actually seen it happen. She didn't make it, by the way. I did. There is something about Tanya and her family, or at least you all seem to think there is, that makes you hate them so much that just the thought of eating something she made is actually making you sick."

Jacob was looking at her furiously. "What business is it of yours?"

"What business is it of mine? This is _my father_ we're talking about. If there _is_ anything about Tanya and her family, I need to know."

"Oh, you need to know? You come up here for a couple of days to play the devoted daughter, and _you need to know_? This is _your father _we're talking about? Where the hell are you all year long? You haven't graced us with your presence in years, and now you're so very concerned about Charlie? Let me tell you something. We're worried sick about him _every day_, not just when it's convenient, not just so we can make a show of what devoted friends we are. He doesn't know what these _people_ really are."

"Then tell him!"

"We can't! Don't you think we would if we could? Do you want to know why we can't? Because _they _won't let us!"

"Won't _let_ you? _They won't let you_? Why would you need their permission? If what you have to say about them is true, that is. What are they going to do? Sue you for libel? For slander? It's not slander if it's true."

"It's not something we can prove in court!"

"Oh, perfect. Wonderful. You can't prove it? You've got no proof? Let me guess, _you just know it._"

They both stood glaring and fuming at each other. Bella was surprised no one had come to break up their fight, and she hoped they weren't being as loud as she was afraid they were. Jacob shook his head angrily at her and stormed out of the room. A moment later she heard a door slam. A moment after that Rachel came into the room with a worried look on her face.

"Everything OK out here?"

"Yeah, fine." Bella had just finished drying the last dish and threw the dish towel on the counter.

"He means well, Bella, really. He's just really worried about Charlie being around these _people_. We all are."

Bella rubbed her temples; she felt a headache coming on, and she was in no mood to placate anyone. _God, the way they say "people." _"You know what, Rachel. This may be none of my business, but your boyfriend in there seems to have some pretty major anger management and control issues. You all might want to worry a bit about that. Tanya makes my dad _happy_. It'd be really nice if his oldest friends could put whatever differences they have with her family, real or imaginary, aside and just be happy for him."

She stormed out of the kitchen and sat back down next to her dad, who was talking to Billy. She was glad he didn't seem to have noticed her picking fights with his oldest friend's kids. She heard a door open, and Jacob came back into the room. He had a piece of paper in his hand and walked into the kitchen without saying a word to anyone. He and his sister came back to the table a minute later with her father's casserole dish in a brown plastic grocery bag. Rachel sat down next to her and handed the bag to her while giving her a look that seemed to be trying to tell her something without her actually having to saying it out loud.

Bella, Jacob, Rachel, and Paul sat in an awkward, stony silence while Billy and Charlie talked. Jacob was looking straight ahead, and Bella could see his jaw moving, like he was grinding his teeth. When she and her father finally left, Bella sat in her father's car traveling down the highway thinking how glad she was to be out of that house.

_ Odd, just a few short hours ago I was so anxious to get away from all the trees and to the house, now it's just the opposite. _

It wasn't until she went to put the casserole dish away in the cabinet that Bella realized the paper Jacob had had in his hand was folded up inside the dish. Thinking it might have been some kind of an explanation, or at least an apology, she looked at it and was surprised to see nothing but an address for a website about Quileute legends.

Annoyed, she set the paper aside meaning to throw it out but forgot about it.

The last evening of her visit Bella and her father spent watching a movie and finishing off the last of the chocolate muffins. The next morning she woke to a cloudy but rainless sky and banana nut muffins, and before she knew it, it was time to leave for the airport.

Before leaving, she stood in her father's kitchen looking out the window at the trees behind his yard. The strange, sudden nervousness of being entirely surrounded by trees she felt on the way to the Black's yesterday was not only gone, but she felt just the opposite. From the safety of her father's kitchen, the trees looked so benign she couldn't imagine what had brought that feeling on. They looked almost inviting to her now. Bella was surprised to find she was sad to leave. The end of a path through the trees was visible from the house, and she wished she'd been able to explore it, see where it led. Had it not been for the bear that attacked those campers, she could have.

She could honestly say she'd miss Forks. Even with the rain. And the wind. And the cold.

She liked being with her dad, and after spending time with him in his own home and not at some tourist spot, Bella really did think they were better suited than she and her mother were.

It stayed cloudy, of course, but the rain continued to hold off, and she didn't see a single drop her entire last morning in Forks. The drive to Seattle was quiet, and after hugging her father goodbye, boarding her plane, and taking off, her mind was still on the trees behind her father's house. She'd always liked the Arizona landscape, even the colors themselves said 'warm' to her, but she could see how people would like the cool greens of the leaves and the moss and ferns that carpeted the forest floor.

When they broke through the clouds and the sun beamed in through her window, it startled her. Seeing the sun shine on the clouds reminded her of her promise to Edward take a picture of the clouds for him, and she smiled. She pressed her fingers to the window and let the sun shine on her hand for a moment before digging her camera out of her bag to take the picture she'd promised him. Seeing the image come up on the screen made her smile widen, and the trees were forgotten.

She was going back home. She was going back to Edward.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Like this, Edward?"

Edward and his mother were enjoying a picnic on one of the first fine weekends of the summer with all of his mother's side of the family, and he was currently teaching one of his youngest cousins to throw and catch. At least, he was trying to. It had seemed so much easier in his memories of his father teaching him in their backyard than he was finding it to be.

"Yes, Charlie. Hold the ball just like that. That's perfect. Now, do exactly as I showed you." The six-year-old little boy scrunched his face up in concentration and tried to imitate his cousin's actions.

"That's it. Turn sideways. Bend your arm. Good. That's right. Now, lean back on your right foot."

Charlie hesitated for a moment before tentatively leaning back on his right foot.

"Perfect. Now, when you step toward me with your left foot, turn your shoulders toward me, bring your arm around like this, and throw the ball." Edward demonstrated the correct movements again as one seamless, flowing motion as he instructed his young cousin. "Ready? Now it's your turn."

The tip of little Charlie's tongue came out between his lips as he attempted to copy Edward's actions. With the look of utmost concentration on his little face, he stomped his left foot hard on the ground, turned his whole body to face his cousin, brought his arm forward, and threw the ball above Edward's head and four feet to his right. Edward was standing about eight feet in front of the little boy and he dove to his left, catching the ball just inches from the ground.

"I did it, Edward! I did it!"

Edward scooped the little boy up under the arms and spun him around as their family clapped for him.

"Yes, you did! Good job, Charlie!"

Edward set his cousin down, and he ran over to his parents. "Did you see? Did you see? I did it! I threw the ball to Edward, and he caught it."

Edward watched the scene with a small smile on his face, remembering a similar scene eleven years earlier. His mother walked up to him and handed him a glass of lemonade. Shaking her head in mock exasperation she examined the sleeve of his shirt. "There is a grass stain on your sleeve. What am I going to do with you? And those are your good trousers. You will rip them."

It was hot, and the sun was out brightly for a change. Edward drank half the glass right down before leaning down and kissing her cheek. He had heard her say almost those very words to his father many times while he was teaching him to throw.

Charlie ran back over to him. "Can we do it again, Edward? Please?"

Edward knelt down next to his cousin and looked up at his mother, bringing his hands up, begging, his baseball mitt still on his left hand. "Please can we? Please?"

Little Charlie looked up at his aunt with the green eyes he shared with her and Edward. "Please Aunt Elizabeth?"

They were joined by another cousin, a hopeful-looking fifteen-year-old named Stephen, holding a mitt of his own.

"Oh, go on you three. Have fun."

Half an hour later the cousins returned hot, sweaty, and dirty to where the blankets had been spread out on the ground. Sandwiches were being taken out of picnic baskets and placed on serving trays, fruit was being placed in bowls, and a cake with fresh berries waited under a glass dome for dessert.

Edward reached for a sandwich, and his mother slapped his wrist. "Not with those filthy hands, young man. You three march yourselves right over to that fountain and wash those hands before you touch a single thing."

Edward and his cousins answered in unison, "Yes, ma'am," and quickly went off to wash the dirt off their hands.

Once they returned, Edward's Uncle Henry, who was Aunt Sarah's husband, rose and called everyone's attention. "Before we eat, Sarah and I have an announcement." He reached his hand out to his wife, and as she took it and stood next to him he placed a kiss on the back of her hand. "I suppose I should more rightly say Clara and her young man have an announcement, but I have been waiting since the doctor said, 'Congratulations, it's a girl,' to say these words, so they are just going to have to let me have my fun. Samuel, Clara, please come over here."

Edward's cousin Clara was a beautiful girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes, and right now she looked radiantly happy holding the hand of the young man standing next to her, who was smiling as widely as she was. "Oh, Father."

Clara gave her father a beautiful smile and kissed his cheek. He took his daughter's hand in both of his and smiled down on her adoringly. "It's seems like only yesterday I heard those words, and a little bundle wrapped in pink was placed in my arms."

Edward was sitting next to his mother, and he heard her sniffle quietly. He moved closer to her and laid his hand over hers.

"Some time ago, this young man came to me and asked for my daughter's hand in marriage." A chorus of happy "Oh!'s" erupted before his uncle continued in a very serious and regretful voice. "Yes, it was quite shocking behavior, and I, of course, had to refuse."

Clara laughed and playfully slapped her father's arm. "Oh, Father, stop."

"I looked this young man right in the eye and was very firm with him. I told him most decidedly, that that was entirely unacceptable. If he wanted her hand, there was nothing for it. He was just going to have to take the rest of her as well."

Edward closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. His uncle proposed a toast to the happy couple and everyone raised their glasses in salute, but Edward had to admit to himself he was jealous. He was genuinely happy for his cousin, she was a wonderful girl and had been a tremendous help in keeping his mother company in the past weeks, but he couldn't help but thinking about Bella and the day her father would make a similar toast to her and some young man.

Some young man who would not be him.

Yesterday was the day she should have arrived home. He had written every day while she was away, even if it was only a few lines, and had put his letter in their desk for her early yesterday morning, but he had not heard from her yet.

Part of him was worried. Just how safe was flying, anyway?

He'd been so in awe of the fact that she was actually going to fly in an aeroplane, or just a plane as she called it, that it had not occurred to him to worry if it was safe. He tried to assure himself it must be safe, as her parents would surely not allow her to fly if it was not. Additionally, he told himself she would without a doubt be tired after her trip and would very likely not write for a day or two. He told himself any number of things, but part of him still worried.

He supposed he would just have to accept that part of him would always be worried about her to some extent.

He congratulated the happy couple, kissing his cousin's check and shaking her fiancé's hand, but the luncheon laid out on the picnic blankets no longer held the appeal it had a moment ago, and he was glad for the distraction when his young cousins commandeered him for the rest of the picnic.

After arriving home Edward sat in the parlor with his mother, playing for her while she knitted warm sweaters and socks to be sent to the troops fighting oversees. Even after all this time, it still seemed incredible to know the war would be over before the weather turned truly cold and they could be needed. _That is not entirely true. Albert's latest letter described scenes of such total destruction, of people left with nothing or next to nothing that I am sure there will be many people who will appreciate warm clothing. _

After playing for some time, Edward stopped and flexed his fingers, stretching them. His mother set her knitting in her lap and watched him. "Your fingers must be tired, dearest. I am not surprised. You have been playing for quite some time."

"Only as long as you have been knitting, Mother. I am afraid my fingers are not as agile as yours."

"Nonsense. I am more rested than you. I am not the one who spent hours entertaining children today." Elizabeth gazed proudly at her son. "You truly were wonderful with them, Edward. So patient. You are going to make a wonderful father some day."

Edward's thoughts wondered for a moment to the child or children he knew he would one day have. In his mind's eye, they all had dark, chestnut hair.

Growing tired and having lost interest in playing, Edward put a record on the phonograph and picked up a book of which he did not read even a page. His eyes kept darting to the clock. It was getting late. He knew his mother would be retiring for the night soon, and he planned to follow her up, hoping a letter would be waiting for him.

As expected, he did not have to wait long; barely fifteen minutes later, his mother put her knitting away, stood, and wished him a good night.

Edward was on his feet in an instant. "I do believe I will turn in for the night as well."

They parted at the top of the stairs, and Edward had to resist the urge to run the length of the hall to his room. Upon opening the hidden compartment in their desk he found several sheets of paper waiting for him. On the top was a picture on the back of which Bella had written, "sunset over the clouds." He was amazed. The picture showed heavily textured, pale, icy blue ripples all the way to the horizon in the distance, which was the gold and pink of a sunset, and over which the sky was a similar shade of pale blue. In the bottom right hand corner of the picture, there was what looked like a large silver barrel above which was a long, narrow, tapered… something… with the sky and sunset reflected on it. Edward studied the picture, thinking of pictures of aeroplanes he had seen before. _Is that one of the wings? It must be, but it looks so different, so narrow. But, what is the strange silver barrel?_ He stared at the picture, entranced, before hurriedly setting it aside to look at the next one. This one was all in varying shades of blue and white. The sky was a deeper blue than the first, beneath which a smooth, hazy sea of white stretched to the horizon. Above the white sea of clouds there were several large, billowy, blue-white clouds outlined in bright, radiant white where the sun shined down on them. The photos were breathtaking.

If Edward thought the photographs of the clouds took his breath away, they were nothing compared to the next picture in the pile. In his hands he was holding a photograph of Bella. His breath caught in his throat, and he stared unblinkingly at the picture, studying her face. The chestnut hair he already loved hung long and unbound framing a pale, beautiful face that was smiling at him. He took several ragged breaths as he drank her in, and he swallowed thickly past the almost painful tightening in his throat.

So mesmerized was he by his first sight of her face that Edward didn't immediately notice the rest of the picture, but when he did, to say he was completely shocked would have been an understatement.

The blouse Bella was wearing was white and sleeveless and looked to be made of some type of lace, and he only half noticed she was sitting at their desk. She was wearing some type of narrow fitting pantaloons which were tan in color, but what held him hypnotized was that her lower legs were bare. She wore no stocking of any kind on her legs; they were completely bare all the way to her knees. Entranced and aroused, Edward could do nothing but stare, his eyes following the line of her leg from her narrow, delicate ankle, up the perfect curve of her calf, to the hem of her pantaloons, giving just the tease of a glimpse of her bare knees, and back down, over and over, one leg then the other and back again. She did not even have stockings of any kind on her feet; which were nearly bare themselves, enclosed only in shoes that looked like sandals belonging more to ancient Rome than modern day America.

After several minutes, Edward forced himself to reluctantly tear his eyes away from the picture and to look at the next one. This was another picture of Bella, this time more completely covered up he noted with both relief and disappointment, and she was standing next to a man. _She's wearing the scarf and gloves!_ This photograph looked to have been taken outside a small church. On the back she had written, "With my dad."

She and her father didn't look much alike, he noted, but they did have similar coloring, both with the same dark hair and fair skin. He smiled down at the picture of her in the scarf and gloves he sent her and turned to the last picture she sent him.

On the back of this picture she had written, "This is me in the dress for my mom's wedding." At his first sight of Bella in this photograph he forgot to breathe and his heart almost stopped in his chest. Edward's mouth went dry; his arousal grew and his trousers quickly became uncomfortably tight. The dress, like the pantaloons in the first picture, only came to her knees, her lower legs were again bare, and she was barefoot. The hemline of the dress was just below her knees but was a sheer fabric which hung an inch or two longer than the layer beneath it, giving him another near glimpse of her knees.

Edward passed his tongue over his dry lips, trying to moisten them, but it was of little help.

Not only were Bella's legs bare, but her arms and even her shoulders were as well. Without taking his eyes from the picture, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. She was slim but had gentle curves that held him captivated.

But it was to her legs that Edward's eye kept returning. Her ankle... the shape of her calf... Her perfect, pale skin held him spellbound; he could not look away for very long.

It was not until much later that he finally went to bed, and when he did, as usual, he dreamed of Bella. In his dreams, her beautiful face was smiling at him, and she was wearing her blue dress.

Some of the time.

Edward needed several of his stash of old handkerchiefs that night.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..  
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_ What have I done? What have I done? Oh, God, what was I thinking? What is HE thinking? Oh, God, what have I done? What must he think of me? _

Bella sat at their desk, banging her head off the green leather. She had been undecided, debating with herself whether to include the picture of herself in the dress for her mother's wedding or not, and in a moment of reckless bravery she put it in with the others, put them all in the hidden compartment, and closed it quickly before she could change her mind. But almost the moment the drawer closed, she did change her mind, and she opened the hidden compartment back up as fast as she could, desperately hoping the pictures were still there, but they were gone. She'd been banging her head off their desk since.

_I should have gone with NOT. I should so have gone with NOT. Oh, God... What was I thinking? A _strapless_ dress. He's living in 1918 for God's sakes! What the hell what I thinking? _

"Bella? Baby? You OK in there, honey? What's all that banging?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." _Go away. My life is over. Please, just go away. _

"Dinner's ready, honey. I made chicken and pasta primavera."

"I'm not hungry." _Go away. What do I need dinner for? My life is over._

"Baby, please. Come on out. I've missed you. If you're not hungry, at least come out and sit with me.

Bella leaned back in her chair and rubbed her sore forehead. _Oh, fine. _"I'm coming."

As she walked out of her room her mother looked at her. "Baby, what's wrong? You look terrible."

_My life is over. That's what's wrong. _"Nothing, Mom. I just have a headache." _Probably from banging my head off the desk, no doubt._ "Do we have any Tylenol?"

"Sure, sweetie. I'll get it. How is your stomach? I hope no one was sick on the plane. If your stomach is OK, you should try to eat something. The medicine will work better."

Bella sighed as she followed her mother through their small house, her mother talking nonstop, running from one topic to the next. Bella was only half listening. First, her mother said she needed to eat something, next she moved on to the appointments with the photographers, after that there was her new recipe for chicken and pasta primavera, next it was that people shouldn't fly when they're sick… _I bet Dad would've just said, "Feel better, Bells," given me the stupid Tylenol, and left me in peace. _ "...they just get everyone else sick, just like that new strain of flu down in Mexico. They said it could be similar to an epidemic back in 1918 that killed millions. If we need to cancel the appointment with the photographers it could take weeks…."

Bella stopped dead in her tracks, trying to replay the words she had only partially listened to in her head. When her mother realized she wasn't next to her anymore, she turned around. "Bella? You OK honey? Is it your head?"

"What did you just say?"

"I asked if you were OK. Honey, you really don't look good. I really hope you're not getting sick."

Renee came up to her and felt her forehead for a fever, but Bella pushed her hand away. "I'm fine. What did you just say?"

"I said I hope you not getting sick."

"Not that."

"Um, I said if we need to cancel the appointments with the photographers it could be weeks before they can see us."

"No. Before that. You said something about an epidemic."

"Oh,_ that_. It was on the news. There's a new strain of flu in Mexico."

Bella nearly screamed in frustration. "No. In 1918. What did you say about an epidemic in 1918?"

...ooOoo... ...ooOoo... ...ooOoo...

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End notes –

Duummm, da dum dum DUUUUUMMMMM!

Well, there you have it. Everything goes to hell in a hand basket now, folks. Those of you who have commented on my story being set in 2009 now have your reason. Spanish flu hits Edward's world at the same time H1N1 hits Bella's.

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I want to be clear – this **is not** a Jacob or pack bashing story. Because of Charlie's relationship with Tanya and Bella's with Edward (even if she doesn't know he's in her own time yet and Charlie doesn't know Tanya is a vampire yet) I reversed their subconscious survival instinct from a leeriness around the Cullens to around the pack instead. Although they don't know it yet, their subconscious loyalty (I guess you could call it that) is to the Cullens. That is why Bella feels adversarial toward Paul. Toward Jacob she feels it but too but to a much less extent. Paul is more threatening. Plus she felt it more strongly to Paul because of being on his turf instead of her own, like she was with Jacob. That is also the reason between her change in feelings between the trees on the highway and behind Charlie's house–Cullen territory–to how she feels once they turn in to the rez–pack territory. Charlie feels it too, but to a much less extent due to familiarity.

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I know you've all been waiting a very long time for Edward and Bella to exchange pictures. I hope his reaction was worth the wait. I had a male reviewer ask "if Ed is an ass, tit or leg man" and I promised him that question would be answered in due time. And there you have it. Edward is a leg man. If you pull up images of late 1910's dresses on line, you'll find they weren't all long-sleeved turtle necks. You can find several evening gowns from that period that–while not low cut by today's standards, of course–showed off a fair bit of cleavage (Hey, if you going to be squished into some God-awful corset, you might was well show off the lift it gives the girls!) and several left the arms largely exposed, covered by gauzy, sheer sleeves. If you've watched Downtown Abbey you've seen perfect examples. Or picture Scarlet O'Hara, with her off the shoulder gowns. Of course, that's entirely the wrong era, but you get my meaning. If you've watched Jane Austen movies, even then they showed some cleavage. Women's upper bodies–while, like I said, nothing like today–just don't seem to have had as much taboo as their lower bodies. It's my impression from what I've seen and read getting information for this story that their big tie up was women's legs more so than their upper bodies. So, I think it's only natural that Edward be a leg man. I tried to elude very subtly to that when he and Carlisle were talking in his office at the hospital, and Edward joked that he was in favor of the shortening of women's hemlines. I think it's funny that her legs being shown never entered Bella's mind. It's the fact that the dress is strapless that she worries about, but it's the fact that it's so very short (by 1918 standards) that drives Edward out of his mind. I had some reviewers ask if she sent him a picture of herself wearing shorts or a bathing suit, but I just wanted to give Edward a real good shock, not kill him outright. We have to let the flu do that.


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks to my PTB betas for this chapter, Thir13enth, Shouvley, and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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One of my darling readers has nominated my story for "What's Pwning You?" on Fictionators! Please, please, please vote for me! Check out Fictionators and scroll down a little, the poll is on the side! Please, please, please vote for me!

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"You said something about an epidemic in 1918. You said it killed millions."

Not having any reason to think twice about a nearly century old epidemic, Renee misunderstood Bella's reaction, naturally thinking that she was worried about the possibility of a similarly devastating epidemic today. "Oh, honey. Don't worry about that. That's just what they said on the news. I'm sure they were just exaggerating, comparing it to some terrible epidemic from so long ago that no one even remembers it anymore. You know how the news is. They're not happy unless they're scaring people."

Bella took a slow, deep breath and tried again. "What did they say about the epidemic in 1918? What was it? The flu?"

_ They had to have exaggerated it. They had to have. It's just the flu. People don't die from the flu. Well, yeah, some do, I guess. But, not by the millions. _

But try as she may to reassure herself, a nearly overwhelming sense of dread had started growing inside her as the words 'killed millions' replayed in her head over and over, and Bella felt as if her feet were cemented to the floor, like the dread growing inside her was paralyzing her.

Something must have shown on her face, because her mother was looking at her like she'd suddenly started growing another head, and when she spoke, she spoke slowly, like she was talking to a very young child who couldn't understand something very basic. "Yeah. They said it was the flu. Bella, honey what's wrong?"

Bella had to struggle to force the words out. "But… But you said, you said it killed millions. The flu doesn't kill millions." She was losing the battle against the dread inside her. She reached out for the nearest chair and collapsed into it.

_ Cancer kills millions. Heart disease kills millions. Not the flu. It doesn't. It just _doesn't. _ It's the flu. It's just the_ flu._ You get sick. It sucks for a few days. You get better. It's_ just _the flu. _

Growing worried, Renee knelt in front of her and took her hands in hers. "Baby, that was 1918. That was, like, a hundred years ago. They didn't know what we know now. They didn't even have antibiotics or anything yet. That won't happen now. Everything will be fine. We'll get our flu shot like normal, and that will be that. Everything will be fine."

Bella's body began to tremble.

_ It was ninety-one years ago. Ninety-one. Not one hundred. Ninety-one._

Her mother's words didn't have the comforting effect she'd clearly thought they would. Exactly the opposite. They served to reinforce what Bella already knew. They reiterated her worst fears. If her world was hit with an epidemic, they could fight back, protect themselves. _Just get a shot, and voila, you're protected. _ But if Edward's was... there was nothing they could do. They had no vaccine, no antibiotics, nothing. They were defenseless. Edward was defenseless.

Shaking, Bella was beginning to feel nauseous. She could feel bile threatening to rise in her throat, and she tried to force it down. "How many died?"

Sitting hunched forward in her chair, her hair was falling forward into her face. Her mother gently pushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ears. "I don't know, honey, a lot, I guess. Sweetheart, it doesn't matter. It was a long time ago. That's not going to happen now."

_ I'm not worried about now!_

Bella only just kept herself from blurting the words out. The heavy dread that felt like it could suffocate her was changing to a panicked, nervous inability to sit still. Her legs were bouncing, her hands were twitching, and her eyes were searching around the room, as if she could find the answers she needed written on the walls. She looked across the room, and her eyes locked on the computer.

_ The answers I need..._

In the next moment, she was up, across the room, seated at the computer, and waiting for it to turn on, anxiously shaking her hands out as if she had pins and needles, to get the blood flowing. _Come on, come on, come on._

Tears were forming in Bella's eyes, and she squeezed them shut. She could not afford to give in to her fear now. She bowed her head and dug her fist into her thigh.

Once the ancient computer finally loaded up, it took her four attempts to pull up Google because her hands were shaking so badly. She squeezed her eyes shut again and alternately tightened her hands into fists and flexed her fingers out, trying to will herself to calm down and failing.

She started to type "1918 flu epidemic" into the search engine but only got as far as "1918 flu ep" before several suggestions appeared on the screen.

Bella swallowed hard, eyes wide, unable to believe was she was seeing.

_ 1918 Flu Epidemic… 1918 Flu Epidemic U.S.… 1918 Flu Epidemic Timeline… 1918 Flu Epidemic Death Toll… 1918 Flu Epidemic Deaths… 1918 Flu Epidemic Pictures… 1918 Flu Epidemic America… 1918 Flu Epidemic Facts… 1918 Flu Epidemic Books…_

Feeling like she was trapped in a nightmare, with a trembling hand, Bella moved the mouse and clicked on "1918 Flu Epidemic."

_ 1,380,000 results…  
><em>

She clicked on a site without really noticing which. The tears she could no longer fight blurred her vision, but she was able to read enough. _"unusually severe… deadly… some 500 million were infected… current estimates 50 - 100 million died of the disease… the flu afflicted over 25 percent of the U.S. population… most victims were healthy young adults… healthy young adults… _

_ Healthy young adults. Oh, God... Edward._

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Edward was in his father's car outside the Red Cross building waiting to pick up his mother. This was the first time she had resumed her volunteer work with the Red Cross since his father's death. Yesterday had been their first truly glorious day in two weeks, but today the clouds had returned. He looked up at the sky and sighed. _It will be raining soon. _

While he waited for his mother, Edward thought again about the pictures Bella had had sent him of herself._ I really must start taking her warnings to heart. _He dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Trousers._ Well, pantaloons more precisely. _Really, I shouldn't have been so surprised. After all, she did warn me that they dress very differently in her time as compared to mine, and she as good as told me that was what she wore when she told me she couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a dress. _

Edward had seen girls in pantaloons before; they were very rare but not wholly unheard of. He had once attended a suffrage rally with his parents, and there had been one or two women dressed in pantaloons present.

Of course, as his father had told him, those women had worn them solely to make a statement–rather foolish of them in his opinion, as it only stirred the resentment of the opposition to their cause, giving them fuel for their fire.

But Bella had worn them simply because they were what she wore normally.

And of course, those women at the rally all wore stocking on their legs.

But Bella's legs were bare.

Edward had never seen a girl's legs without stockings before. Well… there were the girls in the so-called _"art magazines" _his friend, Joe, had nicked from his older brother when he was home from school last winter and shared with him and Will. But they didn't count.

Even Bella's bare arms were tantalizing. Both Lillian and Irene had ball gowns that mostly bared their arms, as did other girls he knew, but these were _Bella's_ arms.

Then there were her shoulders... covered by nothing but her long, dark hair cascading across them.

Edward's mind had begun to recall what he could remember of the dream he had had last night with those arms wrapped around him while he kissed those shoulders and fisted his hand in that hair when a group of people started to emerge from the Red Cross Building, forcing him to pull himself from his reverie back to the real world with a disappointed sigh.

His mother was one of the last women to leave the building and was talking to Constance Hardcastle, whom Edward remembered from the time he'd gone to meet the train delivering comfort items for the troops in Europe. As soon as he saw her, he went to her. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hardcastle."

"Oh, good afternoon, Edward." Mrs. Hardcastle shook his mother's hands warmly as she said, "Good-bye, Elizabeth. Again, my dear, it is so good to see you out and about."

Edward glanced up at the gray sky. "May we offer you a ride home, ma'am? I believe it will rain soon."

"Oh, no, thank you, my dear. You are most kind, but my nephew, Arthur, is coming for me. I telephoned him earlier. Ah, and here he is now. I must go. Good day, Elizabeth, Edward." Mrs. Hardcastle took his mother's hand once again. "Again, my dear, I am so glad to have seen you." Elizabeth took her son's arm as they watched Mrs. Hardcastle's nephew help her into his car, and they waved as they drove off. "She is a dear lady. Very kind, very giving. But I declare, Edward, if she told me one more time how very glad she was to see me…"

Edward squeezed his mother's hand in understanding. They both understood their family and friends all meant well, but one can only be offered a person's deepest sympathy so many times before it becomes an irritant rather than a comfort.

"How was your meeting? Are the plans for the ball coming along well?"

"Oh, yes, dear. Quite well. It will be Saturday, November 16th, and it is to be a Thanksgiving theme. We have an orchestra and a ballroom. Everything is coming together splendidly."

Edward tried to keep the grin off his face but was failing badly, and his mother looked at him, her eyebrow arched in a manner he was well familiar with. "Edward? Why do you look like that cat that ate the canary?"

Edward tried harder to fight his smile but it widened. "Do I?"

"Yes. You do. All that is missing is a few small, yellow feathers stuck in between your teeth. What are you up to?"

"Nothing, Mother." There were now less than three months before the end of the war. _It is just that by November 16__th__, we will all have something to be truly thankful for. _

His mother did not look in the least convinced and continued to look at him suspiciously out of the corner of her eye, but she did not press him further. "No reason, indeed."

Elizabeth moved to a different subject. "You have not forgotten, I hope, that we are to dine with Henry and Sarah tonight? Samuel Denison will be there. They are inviting all the family in small groups so that we may have a chance to get to know him better."

"I have not forgotten. My brown suit is laid out and ready."

"I only spoke briefly to him yesterday, but he seems like a very nice young man. Henry and Sarah are both well pleased with him, I know. Sarah told me a little of him. Such a tragic story. His only surviving family are the aunt and uncle who raised him. His parents died in a train crash when he was very young, and he has no other relations. He had an older brother, Walter, but he was killed in the war very soon after his deployment."

"I am very sorry to hear it." And he truly was. Those three months before the end of the war could not possibly pass quickly enough in Edward's opinion.

As they approached the car, his mother surreptitiously sneaked glances at him, fear apparent in her eyes, and the realization hit him that although _he_ knew the war would end in less than three months and he would never see battle in it, _she_ still believed he intended to enlist and fight. It was with a great sense of guilt that he realized this. Knowing what he knew, Edward had not brought up the subject of his enlisting again as there was no longer a point, but he had not said or done anything to assuage his mother's fears.

Edward opened the car door for his mother and took her hand as she stepped up and in. Once she was seated, he released her hand and spoke, "Mother, please do not distress yourself. Our circumstances have changed. I understand that, and I realize I am needed here. I could not possibly leave you."

She looked at him with wide, tearful eyes and covered her mouth with her hand as she choked out a sob. He kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand again before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.

They did not speak again on the drive home, but several times Edward heard her breath shudder and noticed her wipe her eyes with her handkerchief.

By the time they arrived home, the rain had started, and he held an umbrella over them as they hurried to the house. Before entering the house, he shook the umbrella out and rested it next to the porch swing to dry. His mother was waiting for him just inside the doors. She had one hand flat against her stomach and the other, supporting her weight, resting on a small, marble-topped hall table. "Edward…."

Elizabeth tried to speak but took one look at him and was overcome with tears, and she took the two steps toward him and collapsed, crying, into his arms. Unsure what to do, Edward hesitantly put his arms around her and whispered what he hoped were comforting words. Maggie and Nellie both hurried to them with identical looks of worry on their faces, and he looked at them, desperately trying to silently beg them for help.

That seemed to be enough to reassure them both that nothing terrible had happened, and Maggie stepped forward to take charge of her mistress. "Come now, Mrs. Masen. What is all this about? Come now, come into the kitchen and let us get you a nice cup of tea."

His mother cupped his face with her hand before fussing with his mussed clothes, brushing her hand over his shoulders, smoothing out wrinkles in his shirt, straightening his tie. "So very tall. When did you get so very tall? You were such a tiny baby. Not even five pounds."

Maggie took his mother by the arm, and she allowed herself to be guided into the kitchen like a small child. "He was so very small, Maggie. Do you remember?"

They had a very enjoyable evening at his uncle and aunt's house, and it was late by the time they returned home. Since the following day was Monday and they would be going to the hospital, both Edward and his mother retired for the night shortly after arriving home. He dressed for bed quickly and was now sitting at their desk looking at his pictures of Bella. The first thing he did upon returning home was check to see if there was a letter, but she still hadn't written to him since returning from her visit to her father, other than to send him the pictures.

He was disappointed, but not concerned.

He knew she had arrived home safely, but it had been a full week now since her last letter, and he was anxious to hear from her. He wanted to hear all about her trip to visit her father. Resigned that he was just going to have to wait, he looked at the picture of Bella sitting at the same desk at which he was sitting at that very moment.

.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

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_Dear Edward,_

Bella sat at their desk staring at the blank page in front of her, the only two words she'd written blurring through her tears, unable to think of a single word to write. There were already several discarded attempts crumpled up into balls littering the floor around her.

How do you tell someone you love that they are only weeks away from what may have been the deadliest epidemic in history? How do you tell them there is nothing anyone can do to prevent it?

And Bella did love Edward. That realization came crashing down on her almost the same moment she realized he was in danger, and it left her breathless.

At first, Bella had been able to reassure herself that he had to be OK, that Edward had to make it through OK. After all, she had met his grandson. However, that relief was short lived when she was forced to admit to herself that she didn't know absolutely that Michael was Edward's grandson, and once that safety net had ripped down the middle a fear worse than anything she could have imagined gripped her. Their desk had belonged to both Edward and to Michael's grandfather, and she had just assumed they were one and the same person. But that was before she knew Edward had other male cousins, also named Masen, who could just have easily have been Michael's grandfather.

His cousin, Thomas, was just as likely a candidate as Edward was, and if she was totally honest he was even the more likely of the two.

Michael had said his father's name was Richard. Both Edward and Thomas would be equally likely to name their son Richard, after their grandfather, but Thomas' son would be much more likely to name his son Michael, after both his own grandfather and uncle, than Edward's would be.

And there was also Mic, himself. Even though he was in a wheelchair, he _may_ have married and had children. Bella didn't _think_ he could have had children, but she didn't _know_ for certain_. _

For that matter, for all she _knew_, there was a cousin Richard out there she didn't know about. It made sense; Edward's family did seem to name the son after the father, and his Uncle Richard most likely would have as well. It would be a matter of pride, especially as he, himself, was named after his father, and his Uncle Richard seemed to be nothing if not prideful.

She couldn't even positively rule out cousin Timothy.

Bella had a headache and wiped roughly at her eyes before dropping her face into her hands. One thing was certain. Their desk belonged to both Edward and to Michael's grandfather. If Edward… _wasn't_ Michael's grandfather, and… if for whatever reason did not have a child of his own to pass their desk to, he would have had to pass it to one of his cousins. Even if there was an eventual reconciliation between Edward and his Uncle Richard, which seemed very unlikely, or at least between Edward and his cousin or cousins, Bella didn't think their relationship would ever be a close one. She still thought it would be more likely that he would pass the desk to his Uncle Michael or to one of his sons.

Their desk was too precious; he'd never entrust it to anyone else.

And she remembered something else. As she remembered the day Michael Masen gave her the desk, the words he'd spoken and the way he'd looked at her suddenly made perfect sense.

Bella cried harder, wrapping her arms around herself and laying her head on the green leather. The odd way he'd looked at her when she'd said her name, just before his face lit up in a smile…. The way his smile had grown the longer they'd talked…

But most importantly, there was _what _he'd said, his exact words.

He'd said that the desk had always belonged to her, that they'd just been holding onto it for her until she could come for it. Bella remembered thinking what an odd thing that was for him to have said. He'd said it would live again now, as if it had been alive before but wasn't now. It was almost as if he'd known what would happen.

She remembered the way he'd laughed after he'd told her about the secret, hidden compartment. He'd laughed so much his face turned first red then almost purple. Bella realized then that he _had _known what would happen. Michael had looked at her so oddly when she told him her name, because he'd heard about her already. He had known the moment he'd met her what would happen because his grandfather–whoever that grandfather had been–would have told him the story. His grandfather would have told him what he needed to do when the time came. When _she _came.

She wiped her eyes and tried to calm herself. An idea was forming in her head, and she didn't feel so helpless anymore. _If Michael had known what _would_ happen, then he would have to know what _had _happened._ She remembered the name of the agency that conducted the estate sale, and she ran to get the phone book to look up their number.

In the living room, Renee was asleep on the couch with an open book lying on the floor next to her. Bella felt terribly guilty. She had completely freaked out when she read online about the epidemic Edward was facing; the Spanish Flu they called it. She knew her mother was worried about her and had tried several times to get her to come out of her room.

Edward's description of his father's illness and sudden death matched the accounts of those who'd lived through that nightmarish time almost verbatim. This was the monster that had killed his father so quickly and horribly. Bella couldn't help but feel a little resentful that they never learned about this during school. Between five hundred thousand and as many as six hundred seventy five thousand Americans died, and it seemed like the world wide totals were a wild guess at best. Several websites referred to it as "The Forgotten Killer", or something similar.

_ Between twenty million and a hundred million, what the hell kind of estimate is that? Why not just admit we have no friggin' idea. _ _Less than one hundred years ago, this epidemic killed possibly more people in a year and half than the Black Plague did, more people than have died from AIDS. It might have killed as many Americans as all the wars of the 20__th__ century combined. How the hell could it just have been forgotten? _

Bella looked at her mother asleep on the couch; she was snoring softly. _I am going to have to come up with something really good to tell her. _Bella got the number and went back to her room. She called the agency and groaned in annoyance with herself when she got a recorded message that they were closed and to call back during normal business hours. Of course they were closed. It was the middle of the night.

After several minutes spent pacing back and forth in her room, she sat back down at their desk and tried again to write to Edward.

.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

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"You want to what?"

"I want to buy a camera."

Edward's friends, Joe and Will, were exchanging identical looks that clearly said they thought he'd cracked.

"Whatever for?"

"So I can take photographs, obviously."

He and his friends were waiting for a streetcar, having just left the theater. As long as he was in town, he wanted to stop at Marshall Field's to look at cameras. Bella had requested a photograph of him, and since he could hardly explain to his mother why he needed to have his portrait taken, he would just have to take it himself.

Or rather, he would have to get his friends to take it.

"You're interested in photography?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Since now. What does it matter since when?"

Violet had Joe's arm, and once the streetcar arrived, he helped her up. "You two should not tease, Edward. I think photography is very interesting."

"Thank you, Violet." _How could I ever have not liked her? _

Once Violet was on board with his plan, Joe suddenly became interested in photography as well. "Oh, I don't say it is not interesting. Indeed it is. I am merely surprised at Edward's sudden interest in it."

Edward realized too late he should have known his suddenly wanting to buy a camera would seem as odd to his friends as his wanting to have his portrait taken would have seemed to his mother and come up with a some story to explain his interest. Luckily, Lillian provided one for him.

"I remember seeing an advertisement in the paper for cameras. A woman and young child were sending photographs to a soldier overseas. We should do that. We all know plenty of families with someone over there. Will, your cousin, Albert, is over there. We could take photographs of your aunt and uncle to send to him. And he was sweet on Beth Atwood. I know she writes to him often. I am sure she would pose for a photograph for him."

Both Irene and Violet agreed enthusiastically, and outnumbered five to one, especially once his cousin was mentioned, Will agreed. "Marshal Field's, it is then."

Edward and his friends were looking at cameras on shelves, and a salesman came over to help them. "May I help you?"

Edward spoke for the group. "Yes, thank you. My friends and I are looking for a camera. We would like to send photographs of their families to people we know fighting in Europe."

The salesman was an overweight, middle aged man. He was balding and wore what little hair he did have combed over his head across the bald spot as if to conceal it. He wore a large diamond tie pin and matching cuff links, which Edward was quite sure were paste, and praised them for their consideration and patriotism to the point of making himself ridiculous.

"Now, then. We have many fine cameras to choose from, as you can see. Might I recommend this one?" He climbed up a small step stool with all the effort of one climbing to a great height and brought down a very impressive and somewhat intimidating looking camera.

"This is one of Kodak's newest cameras, the No. 3A Autographic Kodak Junior. The No. 3A Autographic Kodak Junior is designed to meet the requirements of those who prefer the simplicity of the Junior line in the 3A size. It has the same general characteristics as the other Juniors, the same relatively thin, compact form, the same reliable equipment, and like the 2C, is supplied only as a focusing camera."

Edward and his friends looked at each other in confusion, not knowing anything about cameras or ever having even heard of 'The Junior Line', '3A's', or '2C's', but the salesman continued on with barely a pause to draw breath, oblivious to their bafflement.

"The No. 3A Autographic Kodak Junior makes pictures 3 ¼ by 5 ½ inches, the most popular of amateur sizes, which is adaptable to almost any composition, whether in the vertical or horizontal position.

"It loads with autographic film cartridges of ten, six, or two exposures, and, of course, has the autographic feature so that the date and titles may be written on the films at the time of exposure."

The salesman finally paused to draw a second breath, and Edward attempted to ask a question, but before he could say a word, the salesman jumped back into what was obviously a memorized script. "The No. 3A Autographic Kodak Junior is regularly supplied with meniscus achromatic lens, but, if preferred, may be had with either Rapid Rectilinear, or Kodak Anastigmatic, f. 7.7 lens, the latter a lens of Kodak's own manufacture, which has given excellent results."

Not having understood a word beyond "This is one of Kodak's newest cameras," Edward finally held up his hand and interrupted the man. "Wait, wait. I'm sorry, but I have never even held a camera in my life, much less taken a photograph, and I don't understand what you are saying."

The man gave Edward a look which expressed that he was not pleased at having been interrupted and started his speech again. Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, and Will put his hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Let me try."

"What my friend is trying to say is that we don't understand photography jargon. We don't know one lens or size or line of camera from another. We are just looking for something very simple that we can use to take snap shots for our friends overseas. The simpler the better."

The man looked down his rather large, red nose at Will–really quite a feat as he was not above 5'6".

"The No. 3A Autographic Kodak Junior is designed to meet the requirements of those who prefer the simplicity of the Junior line…"

Will turned and shook his head, looking at Edward and fighting a smile. "I give up, Edward. You're on your own."

Lillian and Irene turned their faces away, trying to hide their smiles and giggles behind their handkerchiefs.

Violet cleared her throat, and the salesman gave her an only slightly more polite version of the same look he'd give Edward earlier at being interrupted. "Can you tell us how much the camera sells for?"

"The No. 3A Autographic Kodak Junior sells for $29, miss."

Six pairs of eyes widened. At first, Edward's voice failed him, and it was a moment before he choked out, "$29?"

He heard Joe worry behind him quietly, "Edward, that is _a lot_ of money for a new hobby."

Not being able to buy whatever he wanted whenever he wanted was not something Edward was accustomed to, and he was embarrassed. He'd had no idea a camera would cost that much.

After the initial surprise wore off, he felt sure he had seen advertisements, similar to the one Lillian mentioned, with much lower prices listed. He did not like this salesman from the moment he saw him, and now he was becoming angry, thinking the man was trying to take advantage of him. "I am not spending more than $10. Can you show me a camera for that much? Or should I look elsewhere?"

The man made a dramatic show of rolling his eyes and climbing back up the two steps on the step stool replaced the No. 3A Autographic Kodak Junior on the shelf before reaching behind the counter and pulling out another camera. "This is the No. 2 Folding Autographic Brownie. It has a retail price of $9–"

Before the man could say another word, Edward cut him off, saying that would be fine, he would take it. In addition, he also bought a carrying case for $1 and five cartridges of six exposure film for twenty cents each.

The salesman rang up Edward's purchases, and once they were out of hearing range from the photography department the friends laughed and complained about the horrible salesman.

Violet took Joe's arm and very uncharacteristically was the first one to comment. "What a perfectly horrible little man."

Edward and Will caught each other's eye and grinned. For Violet, that was very scathing criticism indeed.

Edward agreed. "I have half a mind to telephone the store manager and complain about him." Irene and Lillian agreed that he should.

Will remarked, "You certainly told him, Edward. 'I will spend $10 and not a penny more.' Good job on sticking to that, by the way."

Edward shook his head at him and laughed. Will's comment 'by the way' reminded him of Bella and 'btw'. Good naturedly, he laughed. "Oh, stick a sock in it, Will."

Edward continued walking and smiled to himself at the inside joke while his friends looked at each other in confusion, calling after him, "Stick a sock in what?"

"Right. What does it say to do first?"

Edward and his friends were sitting on his front porch with his new camera drinking lemonade and trying to decipher the manual.

"There is a form here for you to fill out, Edward. They offer a free monthly magazine on how to make better pictures. The _Kodakery_, it's called. It is only free for a year, sixty cents a year afterward, but it says you are under no obligation to renew."

Edward looked up from studying his new camera. "Oh, that is good. I will send it in." _Because I have not got the first clue what to do._

"It says to familiarize yourself with the camera. It says especially the shutter, practice with it before loading the film. It says to be careful to keep the red paper wound tightly around the film or the light could ruin it."

Edward and his friends practiced with the camera for a few minutes, having fun pretending to take each other's photograph and posing for each other, before moving on. Joe picked up the manual and read the next step. "It is safe to load the film in daylight because it is in a light-proof cartridge." Will held up a cartridge of film. "One light-proof cartridge, ready for loading."

"It does say, though, that it should be loaded only in subdued sunlight."

Irene looked up at the partly cloudy sky. The sun was behind the clouds at the moment, but it had been out earlier. "Subdued sunlight is all we seem to have had this summer."

Joe read through the next step. "Edward, you need to remove the front of the camera. Grasp it by the two metal edges and lift upwards. Lift the side where the lock fastens first, and remove it entirely."

Edward did as instructed. "It's off, now what?"

"It says there is an empty spool. The film cartridge goes opposite."

Edward and Will followed Joe's instructions as the girls crowded around watching.

"Next, pull out the winding key to limit of motion. Limit of motion? What do you suppose that means?"

"It doesn't appear to come out completely. They must mean do not try to force it further than it moves easily. What's next?"

"Did the empty spool come out?"

"Yes."

"Next, break and remove the gummed band holding the end of the red paper. Unfold the end, and thread the red paper into the longer opening of the slit in the empty spool." Joe looked up from the manual. "It says you want the slot in the end of the empty spool at the top, and the slot at the end of the full spool at the bottom of the cartridge."

"Got it. Next?"

"Next, right. Where was I? Oh, yes. It says to give the empty spool three or four turns, until the black lines on the outside of the paper are reached. It says to be careful that the paper stays straight. Oh, well now this is lovely. It says to secure a tight grip on the red paper as you thread it into the longer opening as far as it will go to reduce the chances that it may slip. They might have said that before they said to turn the spool."

"We're good. It did not slip."

"Alright, now we are ready to load the camera."

"I thought that was what we were already doing?"

"I thought so, too. I'm just reading what the manual says. It says you are now ready to load the camera. Unroll about four inches of the red paper, and place the two spools into the film pockets at each end of the camera. It says to be sure to get the top of the spool at the top of the camera, or total failure will result." He paused. "Hmm. _Or total failure will result_. It sounds like a warning before a military operation."

"It does. What do I do next?"

"The spools should be marked with the word 'top' on the red paper. It says the winding key is on the top of the camera."

"Got it."

"Next, push the full spool back as far as it will go, so the tension spring may hold it securely in place. Turn the winding key to the left until the web on the key fits into the slot on top of the empty spool. If you turn off too much of the red paper before the camera is closed, the film will be uncovered and ruined."

"Do not turn off too much red paper. Right. What's next."

"Close the camera. Just do the reverse of opening it. Insert the end opposite the lock first. The edge of the box must be in the metal groove."

"Edge in groove. Done."

"Next, turn the key slowly to the left and watch the little red window in the back of the camera. After about ten or twelve turns, a little black index hand will appear in warning that the first number is approaching. Turn the key very slowly until the number one appears exactly in the middle of the red window. It says to press in on the key while turning to keep it from loosening."

"Alright, I have the number one in the window. What now?"

Joe set the manual down. "Now you start your illustrious career as a photographer, my friend. Do remember us when you are rich and famous."

"That's it? That's not so difficult. Easy breezy."

His friends all laughed at him. "Easy breezy? Edward, you do say the strangest things some times."

The girls were excited. "What should your first photograph be?"

Edward smiled at them. "Ladies first. We should go around the back. My mother's roses are still in bloom. I will take your photograph in front of them. The sun has come back out, I think it will be bright enough."

The girls squealed with delight and ran around to the back of the house. "Can we all get copies of the photograph, Edward?"

"Of course."

They all went over the manual for instructions on taking a photograph, which were several pages and several steps long, and when they were ready, the girls stood in front of a bush of white roses.

"Alright. When I count to three, smile, and _don't move._"

"You want us to smile?" The girls looked at each other doubtfully.

"Yes, these aren't formal portraits. They are just snapshots. Just for fun. And it will only take a second. Pretend you're Mary Pickford. She smiles for photographs."

"Ooooh. I adore Mary Pickford!"

"She is _wonderful_!"

"Wasn't she wonderful in Stella Maris? _Two_ roles, she played _two_ roles."

"And both so different."

"Are we _ready_?"

The girls posed and smiled. Edward held the camera firmly against his stomach and looked straight down into the finder. "Don't move. On three, one… two… _three_." Edward held his breath and pressed the push pin at the end of the cable.

In the end, they used one of the spools of film taking pictures of each other in groups, Edward and his mother together, and a picture of Edward sitting at their desk. He would send Bella copies of all of the photographs, so that she could see all the people he'd told her about. As soon as his friends left, he went straight to his room to check for a letter but was disappointed yet again.

Over dinner that night, his mother told him what a good idea she thought his buying a camera was.

"I only wish I had thought of it sooner. The picnic on Saturday would have been a perfect opportunity."

"Yes, it would have. Well, there will be plenty of other opportunities. Your father talked many times of buying a camera. I do not know why he never did. I think it is a very good idea of yours to take photographs for the men we know fighting."

"I am going to take a photograph of Nellie and Maggie for Nellie's brother next weekend. I also thought I would ask if she would like one of their parents."

"She has a sister with a new baby named after his uncle. The sister and her husband live not far from her parents. Perhaps you could take a photograph of the baby as well. Photographs can be taken so quickly today. It is really quite remarkable. In the bright sunlight, I understand they can be taken instantaneously. Even the photograph Will took of you in front of your grandfather's desk only required a few seconds. I can remember having to sit perfectly still for up to a minute. It is uncanny how badly you want to take deep breath the moment you are told you cannot. Sixty seconds is a much longer time than you realize, especially if your nose starts to itch."

After dinner, Edward excused himself, saying he planned to write to his cousin, Mic. He was anxious to write to Bella and tell her he had taken pictures for her of himself, his mother, and his friends. He wrote quickly and was greatly relieved when he opened the hidden compartment to finally find a new letter. He excitedly took Bella's letter out and replaced it with his own, but his smile quickly fell from his face, and his heart sank when he saw her letter. It was covered with and still damp from what he feared were her tears.

.

_Dear Edward,_

_I have something so terrible to tell you that I don't know how to start. I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to write, but I haven't been able to think of how to tell you what I need to tell you. I still can't. I have tried to write several times, but I haven't been able to write more than a sentence or end up just staring at a blank piece of paper. _

_While I was visiting my father, on Easter morning there was a report on the news about a new strain of flu down in Mexico. I didn't think anything about it again until two days ago. The day I got home, my mother commented that she had heard of the new strain of flu as well, but that it is not a new strain at all. It is believed to be the same as a flu epidemic that struck many years ago. Edward, that epidemic was in the fall of 1918. It is going to hit very soon, in just a few weeks. The first cases will be in just a few days. On August 27th sailors in Boston will begin becoming sick with cold-like symptoms. By the 30th there will be 60. By September 5th newspapers in Boston will report that the Massachusetts Dept. of Health has announced they are dealing with an epidemic and will try to encourage precautions to prevent the spread of the disease to civilians, but it will spread anyway. In one day, 63 men will die at Camp Devens. The epidemic is going to sweep across the country in a matter of weeks. By the beginning of October, there will be 700 cases in Washington. On September 28th, there will be a parade in Philadelphia drawing 200,000 people. Within three days, every bed in every hospital in Philadelphia will be filled. Within days, there will be hundreds of thousands of cases and hundreds of deaths. On October 6th, 289 people in Philadelphia will die. By the middle of October, there will be 300,000 cases in Chicago. By October 14th, there will be more than 1400 deaths in Chicago, on the 17th alone there will be 381, and in New York, 851 will die in just one day._

_By the beginning of November, the worst will be over, and there will be practically no new cases and people will lower their guard. There will be celebrations and parades for the end of the war which will cause a new wave of cases. _

_This will actually be the second and worst of three waves. The first started in March and lasted into the summer, but it was very mild and barely reported in the press, partially due to more important reports on the war, and partially due to censorship, especially since most victims in the first wave were from the military. Also, many doctors simply didn't notice a significant enough increase in illnesses or deaths to realize what was happening, and in many cases patients were misdiagnosed with other things. The third wave will be through the spring of 1919. It will be worse than the first, but nowhere near as bad as the second. _

_Schools, theaters, churches, stores, and almost any place people gather will close. There will be so many sick, and those not sick will be so afraid that what industries aren't shut down, like the railroad and shipyards, will be crippled. Absentee rates in the shipyards will reach nearly 60%. Telephone exchanges will be shut down in some places for lack of workers. Grocers and coal sellers will refuse to open out of fear. _

_Edward, I know you volunteer at the hospital, but you have to stop. Please. This flu is nothing like anything that has ever been seen before. It can kill in hours, and most victims are healthy, young adults. Victims suffer terribly, extreme fatigue, very high fever–104 or higher, some victims suffer from delusions, some bleed from their mouths or noses or even their ears, and the blood is foamy. Some vomit blood. Most victims die after developing pneumonia. They actually suffocate. They get dark bruises like marks on their cheeks and their skin turns blue from a lack of oxygen in their blood. This flu causes coughing so bad, some victims tore the muscles in their stomach. This flu is extremely infectious, hundreds of millions of people all over the world will get sick. We have no real idea how many people died, but it's believed to have been more than died from the Black Plague. Between 500,000 and 675,000 Americans are believed to have died, 8,500 in Chicago. October 1918 was the deadliest month in U. S. history. You cannot go to the hospital to volunteer. Do not even leave the house if you can at all avoid it. Masks will be given out. If you absolutely have to leave the house, do not go out without one. Wash your hands as often as possible, that is incredibly important. Wash them carefully and get between your fingers and under your nails. Do not put your hands near your face. Use Lysol on anything you touch in your house, the banister, telephone, door knobs, your piano keys, faucets–anything. Use it on your books. _

_Edward, please, I'm scared, you have to stop going to the hospital to volunteer, please. You can't go anywhere near anyone who is sick. It's extremely contagious. I can't believe I never heard of this before. I had to search for it specifically, but when I did it scared me how much there is. Some reports I saw called it 'The Forgotten Killer' or 'The Forgotten Pandemic'. It killed tens of millions of people around the world and people just forgot about it. Please, promise me you will stay away from anyone who is sick, please._

_Love,_

_Bella_

_._

The hand holding Bella's letter dropped to their desk like a lead weight.

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One of my darling readers has nominated my story for "What's Pwning You?" on Fictionators! Please, please, please vote for me! Check out Fictionators and scroll down a little, the poll is on the side! Please, please, please vote for me!

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Historical note:

Brownie cameras were affordable, easy to use cameras produced by Kodak. The first Brownie camera was a cardboard box camera and sold in February 1900 for $1. There were a wide variety camera salesman's speech is nearly word for word from a manual I found on line, same with the instructions for loading the film. (Film is stuff people used had to put inside a camera to take pictures on in the olden days.) I found a few websites with different original list prices, so I just kind of averaged them out.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Edward sat at their desk holding Bella's letter, his arms wrapped around himself and his forehead resting on the green leather, struggling to get his breathing under control. He felt as if he would be sick. Squeezing his eyes shut he forced himself to take deep, slow breaths through his nose.

He knew exactly the symptoms Bella had described; he had first-hand experience with them. Bella had described his father's symptoms exactly. The high fever, the dark bruising on his cheeks, the cyanosis… that awful coughing… the… blood… the rapidity of….

He remembered the way his father stared at the clock on the wall with terror in his eyes. _Delusions. Caused by the fever, no doubt._

Bella's words replayed in his head. _This will actually be the second of three waves. The first started in March and lasted into the summer_…. This disease…. This flu…. This was the monster that had killed his strong, healthy father in less than a day.

And it was coming back at them a hundred times worse.

It was also coming for Bella.

Edward sat up and with a deep, shuddering breath, he dropped his face into his hands.

_ What am I going to do? I cannot _not_ go to the hospital if I am needed. But what about Mother? She cannot go. She cannot. But she will insist. How am I to stop her? No one can stop Mother from doing a thing she is determined to do._

Slumped over, his head in his hands, Edward prayed for guidance and strength. In his prayers, he begged his father for the words to sway his mother, but none came to him. He swore he could hear an echo of his father's voice in his head, just as if he was there in the room with him, wishing him more luck with swaying his mother when she was determined than he had ever had.

And Bella...

His beautiful, smiling, chestnut-haired, brown-eyed Bella. The abject terror Edward felt at the vision that burned itself into his brain of Bella lying in a hospital bed, struggling to breathe while her roses and cream complexion turned that horrible, sickening shade of blue, was crushing. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and dropped his head into his hands again.

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The next morning, Edward had no idea how he got through the rest of the evening after reading Bella's letter. He had eventually composed himself enough to write back to her, begging her to be careful, to take care of herself and not worry about him, and had gone downstairs and played the piano and read while his mother knitted.

When he played the piano, he had just let his fingers move of their own accord, putting no thought into it, and later, when he picked up a book–he didn't even know which–he'd just stared down at it unseeingly before automatically turning to the next page every several minutes. He did not remember speaking a word, he knew his playing must have been awful, and he knew he must have looked a fright. Still, his very perceptive mother said nothing.

Enough of the shock of learning about the approaching epidemic had by now worn off that he was now able to reason and think rationally. His father's birthday was approaching, and Edward suspected that fact might have driven his mother's grief once again to the point that she was so lost in her own pain that she simply had not noticed the state he was in, or perhaps she had attributed his obvious discomposure to that same cause.

Or perhaps, she was simply perceptive enough to know instinctively, as his mother, that he did not wish to speak about what was troubling him.

However, judging by the looks he had noticed several times from Dr. Cullen this morning, Edward suspected he was going to have some explaining to do. And soon.

He was proven correct when Dr. Cullen joined him in the doctors' lounge as Edward was making notes from his conversations with the men this morning, a task made nearly impossible as he couldn't focus his mind on anything other than what Bella had told him. As usual on the days when Dr. Cullen joined him to talk for a few minutes, he heard the door open but did not hear another sound until a chair at his table was pulled out. He always found it odd that he never heard the doctor approach.

Dr. Cullen nodded his head to him in greeting. "Edward."

"Dr. Cullen. How are you this morning, sir?"

"I am fine. Did you find time to enjoy the sunny weather this weekend?"

"Yes, we had a picnic at Lincoln park with my mother's family. My uncle announced my cousin, Clara's, engagement, and introduced her fiancé to the family. I taught my little cousin, Charlie, to throw a baseball." Even through the dread curling inside him, Edward smiled slightly remembering little Charlie's attempts at catching. "Catching the ball still needs a little work, however."

Dr. Cullen laughed.

Edward continued, trying to sound normal but well aware of the strain in his voice. "Some of my other young cousins had brought kites, and I helped get them up in the air."

His smile fell and his voice trailed off. He felt nauseous again as he had a sudden image of his little cousins stricken by the approaching epidemic.

"Edward, what is it? You have looked terribly worried all morning. Is it your mother? Is she still eating and sleeping better, or is she having trouble again?"

Edward set his tablet down and nervously glanced up at the doctor. He briefly considered lying to him, saying that yes, he was worried about his mother. With his father's birthday approaching, it would be perfectly understandable. But he felt sure the other man would see through him in an instant, and he respected Dr. Cullen far too much to lie to him. The doctor had been too good to them the night his father died, and in the weeks since he had regularly inquired after his mother and himself, genuinely concerned for their well-being, and offering his services and advice. Additionally, there was the simple fact that Dr. Cullen was just that, _a doctor._ He was going to be on the front lines fighting this monster very soon. After all the kindness he had shown them, was it right to let him face the epidemic with no warning? Edward did not feel that it was, but how could he ever explain how he knew?

_ Well, you see, sir, my friend in Arizona, the one I mentioned to you before, well you see, sir, she told me. How does she know? Oh, well that is easy. She lives in the year 2009, and "searched" it on what she calls a "computer." She calls it "Googled." I know. It is an odd word, isn't it? _

Edward was quiet for several minutes trying to think of what he could possibly say. _Now I understand how hard it was for Bella to write that letter. However, she, at least, knew I would believe her and not think her cracked in the head. _

"I do not wish to pry, Edward. If you do not wish to discuss whatever is bothering you…"

"No. Sir, that is not… there is…. that is to say…." Edward ran his hand over his face and through his hair roughly, causing it to stick up wildly in all directions, before taking a deep breath and trying again. "There is something I need to tell you. Something terrible. But I do not know how…." Edward's voice trailed off. He could not think how to explain, how to make the doctor believe him. He dropped his head and pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "You will think me insane."

Dr. Cullen looked at him encouragingly and remained quiet, allowing him time to choose his words. Edward decided that sticking as close to the truth as possible was all he could do and hope that it would be enough. "Do you remember my mentioning a friend in Arizona?"

Dr. Cullen nodded slowly. "Yes."

Edward looked around the empty room before leaning in closer, as if he was worried the tables and chairs were eavesdropping. "Sir, I cannot explain how… but she _knows_ things."

Dr. Cullen hesitated a moment before slowly nodding his head again. He had a look of apprehension on his face. "I see. What… _things_… may I ask, does she know?"

Edward could not bring himself to look at the doctor and kept his eyes on his hands, twisting them nervously together on the table in front of him. He did not want to see the look on his face that would clearly tell him he thought he was either insane or lying. Very quietly he said the words, "She knows things that are going to happen… before… they do… happen."

His words were met with silence, as he expected. He forced himself to glance up at the doctor, and was relieved to see a look of mostly confusion, but also possibly relief. _But relief makes no sense._ "Sir, I swear to you, I am in earnest. I am not telling tales, nor am I crazy. She…. Bella…. Her name is Bella. She told me of the assassination of the Czar and that the Carpathia would be sunk the same day off the coast of Ireland with five lives lost… _three weeks before it happened_… Sir, I swear, I am not making this up."

Dr. Cullen looked at him intently but not in disbelief. "I believe you, " he said slowly.

Edward felt his body relax at Dr. Cullen's words. "You do? I did not believe it myself at first."

"There are some people who have… special gifts. I have seen this for myself with friends of my own. I have friends in Ireland, two women, Siobhan and Maggie. Maggie has the uncanny ability to know without a doubt when she is being lied to, and Siobhan…. I have long believed, though she herself does not, that she can _cause_ things to happen, that she can _will_ them to be so. I have seen her do it, though she says it is merely coincidence or luck, but it has happened too many times for it be merely coincidence or luck. No one is that lucky."

"You honestly believe me?'

"Yes, Edward. I honestly believe you that your friend has… the gift of sight, shall we call it."

Edward dropped his head onto the table. "Gift. It feels like a curse."

"Yes, it would. That you realize that, Edward, that alone is enough to tell me you are speaking the truth. To know something terrible was going to happen, like the sinking of the Carpathia, for example, and be unable to prevent it, or at the least warn someone, would be a terrible burden for anyone to bear. Someone not truly carrying that cross would not realize that; they would think only of the good, the benefits, and think it would be wonderful." His next words were spoken very earnestly. "Your Bella is lucky to have you for a friend and confidant. To have to bear such a secret alone is horribly difficult, isolating."

Edward spoke quietly, "I am the lucky one."

"I cannot help but think she has confided a particularly heavy burden to you. Please do not think I would ever ask you to betray her confidence."

"No, I think she would understand. I think she would wish me to…. I, I have to…. I _must_ do _something._ I cannot just let it happen. But there _is nothing _I can do. I know there is nothing that can be done to prevent it. But… perhaps…. I cannot prevent it… but… if I _could_ do something… save even just _one_ person… Even if it is one out of _millions_…."

"Edward. What are you talking about?"

Edward could not help himself but to meet Dr. Cullen's understanding butterscotch eyes. "There is going to be an epidemic. Very soon. It will start in just days. In Boston. Or, more rightly, it already has started… in March… but so slowly it has not been recognized for what it is. It will kill millions… tens of millions… all around the world… hundreds of millions will be stricken, and it will kill tens of millions. It may kill more than the Black Plague. October is going to be the deadliest month in U. S. history. It is going to kill millions. Just like it killed my father."

Dr. Cullen sat and stared at him without blinking. Not a single muscle moved. Edward was not sure the man was even breathing. After quite some time, he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without having said anything. Finally, he spoke, but he was clearly at a loss for words. "Edward, I do not know what to say. If what you say is true, and I do believe you…. It is just…."

"She gave me dates and in some cases exact figures. I believe I have her letter memorized verbatim. It was wet with her tears." Edward related all Bella had told him. "She gave me the symptoms. They match my father's exactly."

Dr. Cullen kept his eyes on him for several seconds before looking away and speaking. "Edward, I had not intended to tell you this. There seemed no point. I do not know if you noticed–it is unlikely that you did–but there were reports in the spring of a sudden rash of cases of particularly vicious influenza at a military base in Kansas. They were very small articles and on the back pages. As I said, you likely did not notice them. Your father's case was so unlike anything I had ever seen before I contacted a doctor I am acquainted with in the military. He reported several cases matching your father's in March. Over eleven hundred men became ill over the course of a few weeks and nearly fifty died. None of their attempts to isolate the sick prevented the spread of the disease. Their symptoms matched your father's."

"That is it. That is was we are facing. Only one hundred times worse. And there is nothing anyone can do to prevent it."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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The small piece of paper in Bella's pocket with Michael Masen's cell phone number written on it felt like both a life preserver that could save her and a lead weight that could pull her under. And now that she had it, she was too afraid to find out which, in fact, it was.

She had telephoned the agency that conducted the sale the first thing the next morning and was not surprised to be told that they had been instructed to give her Michael's contact information if she should ever ask for it–which was good, because she had no idea what to say if they asked why she needed it. She could not imagine what excuse he had come up with to justify why a sixteen-year-old girl would be asking for the phone number of a forty-something-year-old man in another state, but it must have been a good one because the receptionist's voice held no suspicion.

Once she had the number, Bella had immediately started to dial, desperate for an answer, but hung up, suddenly too afraid of what that answer might be. _Edward has to be Michael's grandfather. He has to be. Michael said he and his brother and sister live in Chicago. Edward's cousins all live in different states. It _has_ to be him. It _has_ to be._

Day after day, she religiously studied every web site on the epidemic she could find and made notes, which she filled in on a 1918 calendar she found online and copied onto several sheets of large poster board. She kept them hidden in the narrow gap between their desk and the wall, and as each day passed she crossed it off. For Edward, today would be August 26, 1918. One week exactly since she told him about the epidemic and one day before the first sailors would get sick.

Now, as she sat in her fifth period study hall, Bella thought about Edward's most recent letters. For the past week, his letters had all begun with reassurances that he would be fine, had been filled with all the things he planned to do during the next year and in the future, and ended with his pleas for her to be careful, to take care of herself, and to not worry about him. His letters were longer and more detailed than ever before. She understood what he was doing. She knew his reassurances to her and his talk of the plans he was making were as much to reassure himself as they were her, and if that was what he needed to do to deal with the hell on earth he was going to be living through soon, she would do everything in her power to help him.

He told her he'd bought a camera and of the pictures he and his friends had taken, promising he would send her copies as soon as they arrived from the developer. He told her they'd finally had a break in the gloomy weather they'd had this summer, and his family had all gathered for a picnic. He said a cousin of his had gotten engaged, and her fiancé had asked him to be a groomsman, along with another cousin, as he had no family of his own. He'd told her about his father's family before, but she knew almost nothing about his mother's family. She asked him about them, and he'd written pages and pages telling her about all his aunts, uncles, and cousins.

His mother had two sisters, twins, Sarah and Edith. Both were married with children. Of his two uncles, George and Charles, only Charles, the youngest of his mother's brothers and sisters, was married. His wife's name was Grace, and they had two children, Kitty and Charlie. Charlie was six, and Edward said he was wild for baseball. Kitty was ten and loved to draw and color. His Aunt Sarah's husband's name was Henry, and it was their oldest daughter, Clara, who had gotten engaged. They had three other children, Margaret, sixteen, Henry, eleven, and Bernard, nine. Aunt Edie was married to Hubert, and they had four children, Hugh, Martha, Stephen, and Dorothy. Hugh was his oldest cousin, at twenty, and was studying to be a lawyer. Edward said his father had been assisting him and had left him a sum of money in his will that would ensure he would be able to complete his studies. Martha was seventeen, Stephen, fifteen, and Dorothy, eleven.

The bell rang announcing the end of the period pulling Bella from her thoughts, and she reluctantly put away the biology book she hadn't even looked at. Study halls were great. She could sit, quiet and undisturbed, for an hour and just think about Edward.

She had two classes to get through before she could go home and check for a letter, art and biology. She had a test in biology today that she was supposed to have been studying for during the past hour. _Oh, well. I did manage to study a little last night. A very little. But it will have to do._

As Bella made her way to the art classroom, she heard some girls gushing over how much fun they had had at the dance last weekend, and she was surprised to realize it had come and gone already. She had completely forgotten about it.

She entered the art room, sat down at a table near the window, and waited for the rest of the class to arrive. Art was OK. She'd never be a great artist, but at least it wasn't gym. That alone was a major plus. _Unless I trip and poke my eye out with a colored pencil. _Once the bell rang, the teacher, Mrs. Ross, called everyone's attention and announced their next project. Watercolors. She stood at the front of the room leaning against her desk and gave them instructions and described different techniques, which Bella only half listened to. They were free to choose whatever subject they wanted, but she wanted to see as many different techniques as possible. Bella smiled. She knew exactly what she was going to paint.

Edward had told her he wished he had gotten his camera sooner; he said the picnic would have been the perfect place to use it. She was going to paint his picnic with his family. He had gone into enough detail that she knew what everyone had done. He'd even told her what kinds of food they'd eaten. He did not have any pictures of it, but he would have a painting of it.

She knew they had spread out a blanket, and she painted that first in yellow, followed by the sky. She made a list in her head of all of his uncles and aunts and cousins, mentally checking them off after painting them. Of course, she painted Edward playing catch with Charlie and Stephen first, mixing colors to match his bronze hair as closely as possible.

She grinned to herself at the coincidence of his cousin's name and her father's being the same and their shared love of baseball.

She painted his cousin, Hugh, quietly studying to be as prepared as possible for the upcoming semester. Martha and Margaret were sketching the late summer flowers. The children were coloring with crayons or flying kites. Clara, her fiancé, and the other adults were talking and watching them all. It didn't matter that she had no idea what anyone actually looked like; she painted the scene as if seen from a distance, almost as if seen by his father watching over them all.

She had just put the finishing touch, a bowl of fruit, on her painting and stood back to look at it. Bella had no exaggerated sense of her artistic ability, but she really liked it, and she hoped Edward would too.

Her teacher came up behind her. "Oh, Bella! It's wonderful. Definitely your best work. Very impressive. You really captured the feel of a picnic. May I ask, with such a happy theme as a picnic, why did you choose to paint one lady all in black?"

At first, Bella didn't know what to say. This wasn't just a random scene; this was real. These people were all real, but she could hardly tell her teacher that.

Or could she?

_ Stick as close to the truth as possible._ "It's during World War One, and she's in mourning."

"Oh, Bella, that's wonderful!"

_ Excuse me?_

"You didn't just paint a scene. You painted real people."

_ Excuse Me? _

"That's why it's such a good painting. You brought them to life. You gave them lives and captured their emotions as if they were real people."

_ Oh. _

"Do you have a story for anyone else?"

"Oh… um… yeah, I… um…. The, um, the girl in pink is engaged to the man next to her. Her parents are next to her, and her father just announced it."

"Wonderful. The way you have them gazing at each other, you can feel their happiness. From the widow's mourning to the young couple's happiness. Life goes on. Very well done, Bella."

Bella was embarrassed at her teacher's praise and the attention it had attracted from the rest of the class. Her painting was private, and she didn't want to share it with anyone but Edward.

She survived biology. She certainly hadn't aced the test, but she didn't think she'd completely bombed it either, and breathless, she had to run to catch her bus because she'd had to go back to the art room to get her painting.

Once finally home, Bella ran straight to her room, threw her book bag on her bed, and opened the drawer to get Edward's latest letter. She knew there'd be one. For the past week, she'd gotten at least one a day, some barely a line or two and some pages long, and there hadn't been one this morning.

She worried about Edward nearly every minute of every day. His letters were always upbeat and positive, but Bella could read between the lines. She could see his fear in the slight change in his handwriting and in the detail he went into in describing everything and anything. He didn't just tell her he'd played while his mother knitted last night anymore, he told her what composers he'd played, which were his favorites and which where his mother's and father's, and he told her what, specifically, his mother was knitting and for whom. He'd told her his favorite color was green, any shade of green. She'd forgotten that he'd never answered her when she'd asked him what his favorite color was. He told her about his friends, Lillian and Irene Stevenson, visiting one afternoon with their father and younger sister. And he asked her for increasingly more details of her daily life, what foods were her favorites, what subjects at school she took, which did she or didn't she like.

They shared a love of coffee, and she remembered his initial confusion when she suggested he drop a small piece of chocolate in his coffee and then his telling her she was a coffee genius. _I wish I could send him a Frappuccino._

She was a little embarrassed when he asked about her friends. He had so many friends, how could she admit to him that her best friend was him? That, really, her _only_ friend was him?

Again Bella thought back to Forks and wondered if she and Jacob, or she and Rachel, or she and Angela would've been friends. She'd never really felt her lack of friends before she had one. She and her mother were a team, and that had always been enough. But now her mother had Phil.

Bella wrote a short note to send to Edward with his painting before curling up on her bed with his latest letter.

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_August 26, 1918_

_Dearest Bella,_

_My dearest Bella, I was given terrible news today. I am so very sorry for it. The end of the war is so close now, only two and half months away, and he was only there a short while. But I am ahead of myself. When my mother and I returned from the hospital this afternoon, Will was waiting for me. (My friend, Will Collins, I told you about him.) I will never forget the expression on his face. He called to tell me an officer visited his uncle and aunt's house this morning. Their son was killed in France, and his body has not yet been identified. His name was Albert Fletcher, and he was a friend of mine. I cannot believe he is gone. I just received a letter from him the other day. He was devoted to a girl named Beth, and Will confided to me that he had intended to speak to her father once he returned. My friends and I had planned to take a photograph of her this weekend for her to send to him. I am so terribly sorry for his parents. He was a truly wonderful person. He attended the same school as I and was on the baseball team. He was a senior when I was only a freshman, but he knew I was a close friend of his cousin's, and he always went out of his way to say hello. His uncle is a state Senator, and he planned to enter politics as well. He was one of the kindest people I have ever known, and he will be deeply missed. _

_On a more pleasant note, two more men were released from the hospital today. It is wonderful to play even such a small part in helping these men. They are true heroes. This is being called The War to End All Wars. I hope above all things that this is true. These men have suffered such horrors and bear such horrible scars, I hope, at least, that future generations will never have to relive what they have endured. I hope that by your time, we have learned to settle our differences without killing each other. _

_The school year is starting next week. I will be a senior. It is exciting to think that this time next year I will be preparing for my freshman year at college. I plan to attend the University of Illinois at Chicago. I am undecided which field of medicine I wish to study afterward. I had always intended to become a surgeon; however, now I am torn between that and psychiatry. The working of the human mind is such an amazing mystery. To see these men when they are admitted to the hospital and to see them when they are ready to be discharged is nothing short of miraculous. I had always thought there could be nothing better than to be a surgeon. To be able to save the life of someone who, but for you, would surely die. What could be better than that? Now I am rethinking that. If you give a person their mind back is that not also, in a way, saving their life? If they would have spent that life in an asylum or in a state of constant terror otherwise? I suppose I have plenty of time to decide. Four years is a long time. _

_My mother has been doing well; however my father's birthday is this week. She is keeping busy, but these past few days I have noticed she is not eating as well as she had been, and there are dark circles under her eyes again. I know you said to expect as much, but it is still difficult to see her eyes rimmed with red. She works so hard at the hospital, and she is working longer hours now as so many nurses have left to serve oversees. If she does not eat and sleep properly, I am afraid she will wear herself down. I have spoken to one of the doctors at the hospital, and he is concerned for her as well. He is doing his best to ensure that she eats and has the nurses subtly watching how much, or if, she eats, but they have patients of their own to care for and have little time for anything else. He has given me veronal tablets for her if needed as well. He normally works nights, but the hospital is so understaffed due to the war, he is there most days as well. Sometimes, he reminds me of the family you mentioned who are friends of your father's. He is an extremely talented doctor, very wealthy, and very handsome, but people at the hospital seem to go out of their way to avoid him. Some can be really very rude. My mother says people are intimidated by him, but I sometimes think they seem genuinely afraid of him. I cannot imagine why. He has been kindness itself to us. Moreover, there have been donations made anonymously to the hospital which I believe were from him, and I know of at least one patient whose bills were taken care of by an anonymous benefactor, whom I believe to have been him as well. I often feel indignant on his behalf at the way he is treated. I must apologize, I was wrong earlier when I advised you not to try to befriend that family. Some people's good opinion is not worth having. _

_I am just realizing I have never asked when your birthday is. How very thoughtless of me, please forgive me. Also, you have not yet told me about your visit to your father. Did you have a pleasant visit?_

_The baseball season is being cut short this year, and the season will end next week on Labor Day. Not only have the Sox had a dismal season, but to rub salt in the wound, the Cubs are headed to the post season. We only have five games left, and only two of them are home games, next Saturday and Sunday against the Cleveland Indians. I am going to take my young cousins to Sunday's game, although I do not hold out much hope for a victory. We have played so poorly this season. We are the reigning World Champions, and we are fourteen games out. We played two double headers this past weekend and only won one of the four games, and that was against the Philadelphia Athletics, who are the worst team in the league. Hopefully we can bring the team some luck. Hopefully, it will not rain. This summer that may be all the luck we can hope for. We will just have to lump it and hope for a better season next year. _

_I know you are worried about me, Bella, but please don't be. I promise, I will be fine. I will be very careful and take all the precautions you suggested. I only worry about you. I know you said you will be able to get a vaccine, you must promise me you will get it as soon as possible. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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It was with a heavy heart that Edward awoke on the morning of August 27th. This was the day he had been dreading since receiving Bella's letter telling him of the impending epidemic last week. This was the beginning. The first cases of the worst epidemic ever known would occur today. And the world had no idea.

As selfish as it may be, he was glad he did not carry the weight of this knowledge alone; he was afraid it might have crushed him otherwise. His motivation at the time had genuinely been to do whatever he could to protect the people he cared about the most, but now he was glad for his own sake that his cousins and Dr. Cullen knew what they were facing. He could not have borne this alone. However, now that the dreaded day had come, Edward's thoughts dwelt on his friend, Albert. Even though he knew logically that it would not have reached his friend in time, he still regretted not having responded to Albert's last letter. He had sworn so faithfully to himself after his father's death that he would not allow himself to take anything for granted, that he would not put off doing things that truly mattered, but that was exactly what he had done, and he was disappointed with himself.

He _could_ have written to Albert sooner, he simply hadn't. _What kind of person puts off writing to a friend in the middle of a war until tomorrow?_

Eventually, Edward dragged himself out of bed hoping there would be a letter from Bella. He needed her to face what was coming, and she was there for him. There was not only a new letter, but a painting as well. He looked at the painting gratefully, recognizing the scene immediately. He'd told her he regretted not having had his camera to take photographs of his family at their picnic, and she responded by painting it for him. She captured everyone perfectly. _I must have this framed right away. _He set the painting down and moved on to her letter.

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_Dear Edward,_

_I am very sorry about your friend. We have a saying, only the good die young. I don't know when it originated, but does seem to be proved true far too often. _

_There are different ways to be a hero, Edward. Of course, soldiers fighting for their country are heroes, but so are those who dedicate themselves to taking care of them when they return. Don't forget that._

_Your school year is about to begin, and mine is about to end. We have about seven weeks left before summer vacation, and I really should start studying for final exams. I hope I can get a part-time job over the summer. I'd like to be able to give my mom and Phil a nice wedding present. There is a jewelry store in town that rents jewelry for special occasions, but I would like to buy her necklace to wear. _

_I don't know what college I want to go to, but I'm seriously thinking about the University of Washington. I think I'd like to be near my dad for a while, even if that means clouds and rain. But I have absolutely no idea what I want to be. _

_I'm sorry to hear your mother is having a hard time, but be patient with her. I'm glad you have support to help her, not only from your family, but from friends at the hospital. Don't be afraid to ask for help for yourself, too. You both need to get enough sleep and to eat right._

_Your doctor friend does sound like my dad's friends. I saw a picture of Tanya while I was there. She was in Alaska with her family, so I didn't get to meet her. I cannot even begin to describe how beautiful she is. I guess I can see someone being intimidated by someone so beautiful, especially if they're rich, too. At least at first. But, really, get over it._

_I had a nice visit with my dad. I think you might actually like it there, except for the constant rain. Everything is green. There were a few breaks in the clouds here and there, but I didn't actually see the sun again till the flight home. My dad said they did have a clear sky after I left. At eleven o'clock at night. For about a half an hour. My visit with my dad went well–my visit with his friend's kids, not so much. His friend, Billy Black, has two kids, Jacob and Rachel. I kind of fought with both of them. Well, not "kind of." I really fought with them. You asked what it means to rip someone a new one? If you could've seen me, you'd know. I tried to ask them why they didn't like Tanya or her family, and you could not believe how they acted. Jacob especially. Tanya left about a two week supply of meals for my dad and me already made, all we had to do was heat them up. Billy and Jacob came over to watch a baseball game on television and my dad had food in the oven, they actually refused to eat it and brought pizzas instead. Can you believe that? Then on Easter, they invited us to dinner and we took a casserole with us. Jacob must've had four helpings of it. I volunteered him to help me clean up, since his sister made dinner, and while we were in the kitchen I told him Tanya had made the casserole. Have you ever actually seen someone turn green before? I have. I really thought he was going to be sick. He said we didn't know what "these people" really were, and the way he said "people" it was like he didn't even want to refer to them as people. He said he couldn't tell us what they really were because they wouldn't let them. Have you ever heard anything so stupid? His sister, Rachel, is dating a friend of his named Paul now. I guess you would call it courting. This has only been going on for a few days, and she is leaving college to stay home because of him. And Jacob and their father are fine with it. She is going to finish college, sort of a correspondence course, but still! This Paul has major control and anger management issues, I told them they should worry about that instead of my dad. I was so angry, I was shaking. _

_I hope you enjoy your game this weekend. I Googled it, so I already know the final score, but I'm not telling. _

_My birthday is September 13th._

_You're wasting your time telling me not to worry about you, Edward, I'm going to anyway. But you're also wasting your time worrying about me. I get a flu shot every year, I'll be fine._

_Your Friend,_

_Bella_

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There's chapter 17! Send me a review button and tell me what you thought of it!

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One of my lovely readers has nominated me for "What's pwning you?" on Fictionators! Please vote for me!

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Historical note - The 1918 baseball season was cut short when America actively entered World War I. It was a development that not only affected the outcome of both pennant races but also made the home run revolution of the 1920s possible by indirectly causing Babe Ruth's conversion into an outfielder.

War had formally been declared in April of 1917, but players did not begin to join the armed services in significant numbers until Provost Marshall General Crowder issued his "work or fight" order in June of 1918. Unlike in World War II, baseball made no attempt to claim essential employment status on the grounds of aiding public morale, and the government ordered the season cut off on Labor Day, September 2. Personnel losses due to the enlistment or drafting of major leaguers were the biggest factor in both pennant races.

Almost every team suffered at least one key loss that year to Uncle Sam; no club, however, was hit harder than the defending champion Chicago White Sox, who lost Joe Jackson, Swede Risberg, Red Faber, Lefty Williams, Eddie Collins, and Happy Felsch (among others) and fell to sixth place.

entertainment . how stuff works 1918 – baseball – season . Htm / printable


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Additional Disclaimer – This is the chapter that couldn't be avoided – the epidemic chapter. You got a brief glimpse of the Spanish Flu with Edward's father, but it hits with full force in this chapter. I tried to tell it like it was, and I don't hold back on symptoms or victims. I did a lot of research on the epidemic and found several first-hand accounts, some of which I incorporated into this chapter. Just like with other chapters, what happens around Edward really did happen. That being said, I'm not a professional researcher. I tried to be as correct and accurate as possible, because I really want these people's stories to be told correctly, but there is a whole hell of a lot of information on the epidemic out there, and sometimes one website will contradict another, just like the way one eye witness' account will contradict another's. I've read other fics set during 1918, but I think I get more graphic on the epidemic than others did. Overall, I don't think it's a problem, but there are things that may upsetting to some people. If, like me, you cry easily, get tissues.

Now, on with the show…

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The first few days of the epidemic passed mostly uneventfully. Edward did not know what he expected, but it seemed wrong that life should continue as usual. He felt as if the world was on a express train speeding along the track, but no one noticed the bridge ahead of them was out.

Though he tried to hide it from Bella, he had been nearly overwhelmed with panic and in fear of the approaching epidemic.

Believing it had been his grandson who had given Bella their desk had been a guilty comfort. It had meant he would survive. His fear was for all those he loved. The thought of watching anyone else he loved suffer as his father had terrified him, but when Bella told him she might have been wrong, that it might have been the grandson of one of his cousins, he began to fear for himself as well. She'd tried to reassure him that it was still likely that he was Michael's grandfather, as they were both from Chicago, but Edward was becoming more and more certain that he was not. In spite of the uncertainty and fear he now felt for himself, he had to admit there was also a sense of… _rightness_. As much as he had liked the idea of knowing he would marry and have a family and eventually grandchildren, and even though he mourned the loss of the wife and family he had never really had, it had never felt truly _right_.

Simply put, he loved Bella and only Bella.

Edward could not imagine ever loving anyone else, or wanting anyone else like that. And he would never marry someone he did not love. Not after seeing how happy his parents had been together would he ever settle for anything less for himself.

Now, he was resigned to the knowledge that marriage and children would not be a part of his future.

Now, he just hoped he would _have_ a future.

He had so many plans; there were so many things he wanted to do. He did not want to die at seventeen. He remembered the conversation he'd had with his cousins after he told them about Bella, and now, faced with the epidemic, he still could not decide if he wanted to know. He had considered asking Bella if there was any way she could find out what would happen to him, but he could not make himself write the words.

Edward supposed that alone gave him his answer. He did not want to know.

In a way, the death of his friend, Albert, had helped put life and death in perspective for him.

It grieved him, he was ashamed for it, but he admitted to himself that he didn't know or truly care how many other soldiers had died in that battle; he only truly cared that his friend had died, and that knowledge left him feeling horribly guilty. Being able to confide his guilty admission to Dr. Cullen had been a great relief. Dr. Cullen was able to explain that that didn't make him a terrible person, that it didn't mean he didn't care at all that others had died, of course he did. He would not be feeling as guilty otherwise. But he didn't grieve for them the way he grieved for Albert, just as the family and friends of the other soldiers who were killed didn't grieve for Albert as they did for their own loved one.

The knowledge that tens of millions would die from this epidemic was both overwhelming and unimaginable. Dr. Cullen had helped him to take that down to, not _the_ world, but _his_ world, _his _city.

In Chicago, eighty-five hundred would die.

Chicago was a city of over two and a half million, and eighty-five hundred would die. About three tenths of a percent.

_ His_ world within that two and half million was really quite small, just his family, his friends, and himself. It was entirely possible that he would make it through this epidemic without losing anyone else he loved.

He did not by any means take it lightly that so many would die, but he could not let the staggering numbers overwhelm him, or he would be useless to those who fell ill when they needed him, and that was something he could not allow.

Edward had told Dr. Cullen of Bella's pleas for him to stay away from the hospital during the epidemic, and to his surprise, Dr. Cullen had strongly agreed with her. Nearly every time they spoke, Dr. Cullen tried to convince him to stay away and to keep his mother away with growing desperation.

Many times he felt himself begin to waver under the weight of the doctor's arguments, especially when he spoke of his mother, but his promise to himself that he would do everything in his power to help never truly faltered. He would not be able to live with himself knowing that he locked himself up inside his safe, comfortable house and lived off canned vegetables from Maggie and Nellie's garden while others suffered, whether they were part of his own personal world or not. He simply could not do it, and he was honestly surprised that Dr. Cullen, knowing how desperately help would be needed, would urge him so strongly to do just that.

There were mentions of Spanish Influenza in the newspapers, but there was no great concern. Reports were optimistic, assuring that all was well in hand. People felt that, certainly, all would be well on that front. There was no cause for any great concern. Not with the far greater importance of the war headlines. There was to be another draft. The third. Men as old as forty-five were now required to register for the draft. However, things were going well for the Allies, and people wanted to feel good. Largely, life went on as usual.

Every day for the first two weeks of September, Edward woke and wondered if that day would be the day it began in earnest, and then finally, halfway through the month, it happened.

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_September 16, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_Practically overnight, it has begun. My friend, Joe Watson, is sick as are many, many others. He fell ill yesterday shortly after returning from church and was admitted to the hospital earlier today. It has been less than 24 hours, but so far his fever, though high, has remained below 104, he is not delirious, and although he coughs terribly it is not so terribly as my father did. The doctors are hopeful of preventing pneumonia, and he is able to take warm fluids. _

_Joe is a year older than Will and I, but is in our year at school as he missed a year due to a lengthy illness several years ago. A draft registration was held four days ago, and as he is already 18, he was required to go to the post office to register. The majority of those who have been admitted to the hospital so far are men who registered that day or family members of men who did. I am sad to say we have already had our first deaths, although no one yet dreams of the nightmare to come. Healthy, strong men have perished less than a day after falling ill, just like my father, and I see the same look of shocked disbelief on the faces of their loves ones as I remember seeing in the mirror on my own. I know there will be many, many more before this nightmare is over. It seems incomprehensible that with the possibility of being sent to fight in this horrible war, it was merely registering for the draft where the immediate danger laid. _

_I must end now, I must go to my mother. She is distraught, recognizing my father's symptoms in Joe and the others who have been admitted and in those who have died. I wish I could tell her not to worry, but how can I? I will write tomorrow with news from the hospital the first moment I am able. I know you do not wish me to go, but I must. Please understand, Joe is one of my best friends, I cannot not go. If it were me who was ill, I know he would not abandon me. His poor parents are nearly inconsolable with fear as they see men being carried from the ward covered with a sheet, and Violet sits next to his bedside holding his hand and singing to him. I am taking all the precautions you gave me and am encouraging everyone I know to do the same. I beg you to remember us all in your prayers. I remain,_

_Your Friend, _

_Edward_

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_September 17, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I have good news in that Joe's fever still has not reached 104. He was given a morphine injection overnight to allow him a good night's sleep. He is still taking warm liquids and Dover's powder, and although the horrible coughing persists, he still shows no signs of the influenza having progressed to pneumonia._

_We have had more deaths, but we also have many patients who, like Joe, appear to be holding their own, at least so far. _

_I have heard doctors at the hospital speaking in fearful whispers of ever more dire conditions at the hospital at the Great Lakes Naval Station. Doctors there believe we are dealing with an outbreak of meningitis..._

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_September 19, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I have the most wonderful news regarding Joe. His cough has quieted, his fever has broken, and he has been discharged. He is very weak and fatigued, but he is home..._

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_September 20, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_It has only been a few days, but there are articles in the paper regarding the epidemic every morning now. Some are practical and give good advice, such as not remaining in crowded or poorly ventilated places, eating and sleeping properly, and covering your mouth with your handkerchief. However some border on the ludicrous. Yesterday, there was an article quoting a health official, a Lieutenant Colonel no less, who suggested Huns sent ashore from German U-Boats may have started the epidemic. He speculated it would have been easy for German agents to spread the influenza germs in places where large numbers of people gather, such as theaters. I wonder how he thinks they managed to spread the germs without becoming exposed themselves and carrying the disease back to their U-boats. Unfortunately, all too many people are ready to believe just such a thing. Anti-German feelings are so severe, some orchestras will no longer play music from German composers, and sauerkraut is now being called "Liberty Cabbage"..._

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_September 23, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_There was an article in the paper today, a Captain at the Great Lakes Naval Station said they have 4,500 Spanish Influenza patients at the station, with about 1000 serious enough to be transferred to the base hospital, and they have had over 100 deaths. He claimed the rate of new cases is decreasing at 10% a day and declared the situation "well in hand"..._

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_September 26, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I cannot tell you the comfort your letters are to me during this dreadful time. Please know that. Your letters have always been the highlight of my day, but now, they are what give me the strength to get through the day. Mother and I are spending most days at the hospital, sometimes as many as twelve hours a day, and even though we are not even two weeks into this hell, I am more exhausted than I can ever remember being. Every bed at the hospital is full. Doctors, nurses, and volunteers have fallen ill. Even with as many patients as we have at the hospital, there are seemingly countless more sick and dying at home. Mother and I sometimes accompany a doctor on house calls. Today I saw the most tragic scene I think I could ever imagine. I must warn you, my dearest friend, you may wish to stop reading this right now for what I have to say is truly horrible. I have no right to burden you with this, and I pray you can forgive me, but as selfish as it is, writing to you is, I think, all that is keeping me sane. We were out trying to call on the sick in one of the poorer, typically immigrant areas of the city and happened to come across a young boy of about 10-years-old wandering down the sidewalk, dazed and appearing lost. The poor child was burning up with fever and was unable to speak English. With the help of a good Samaritan passer-by, we were able to return the child to his home, a small apartment in a large, run down building. The child's father and five siblings all had a fever of at least 104, and his mother was dead in her bed. Her distraught husband, incoherent with fever and grief, was holding her hand and pleading with her in Italian. There was a bottle of camphorated oil on the bedside table. What we think must have happened was that as a result of confusion due to his own severe illness, or possibly due to not understanding English, the poor man accidentally gave his wife camphorated oil instead of castor oil and poisoned her. The raw pain, the agony in that poor man's eyes is something I will never forget. A woman entered the apartment shortly after us carrying a tureen of chicken broth smelling very strongly of garlic. She spoke only broken English, but we were able to explain to her what had happened, and the poor woman was overcome with tears. Once she was sufficiently recovered she told us she and her husband were trying to care for all those who were sick in the building, but there were so many they could not get to them all often enough. She clearly had very little herself, but she and her husband were sharing what they did have with their neighbors. She fetched her husband and two other men and with their help we carried the family to the car and transported them directly to the hospital, but I am afraid the oldest child will join her mother before morning. _

_I know you worry for me, my dearest, but please understand I cannot stay at home and do nothing. The need is simply too great. Schools and universities have all been closed, and just as you said, theaters, amusement parks, social clubs, anywhere there may be a crowd, have been closed. My aunts and those cousins old enough are volunteering at the hospital and on house calls or at the Red Cross as well. The number of new patients being admitted continues to rise every day as, sadly, does the number of deaths. I try to remind myself that many more will recover than will not, but it is difficult to remember that when you lay a girl–probably not more than fifteen years old and not expected to live until morning–on a cot that is little more than a stretcher with quickly fashioned legs because there is no proper bed available for her to die in. I can still see that poor girl's long, dark hair spread out against the white sheet. My cousins, Clara and Margaret, have nearly the same shade of hair, and Margaret is very close in age, having turned sixteen in June. Her birthday is very near my own. _

_I am terribly worried for you. If there is any chance the epidemic you are facing is anything like this, my sweet Bella, I cannot bear the thought of you having to endure this. I believe I can bear anything but that. I know you said the government is assuring everyone the vaccine will be ready in time, but I cannot get the words of that idiot Captain at the naval station claiming the influenza is well under control out of my head. You must promise me you will get the vaccine as soon as possible. Please write to me soon, your letters to me are the greatest source of strength I could ever hope for. I remain,_

_Your friend,_

_Edward_

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Bella sat paralyzed, holding Edward's latest letter. It didn't matter that between her tear-filled eyes and shaking hand she could no longer make out the words, they were burned in her brain. Her bottom lip was trembling, and she drew a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the words she had just read, but she could still see them. Edward's letters for the past week and a half had been mostly filled with details of the epidemic, and those had been hard enough to read, but with the exception of his friend, Joe, this was the first time he told her about the people he was helping. She could imagine in her mind the scene he had described, the scene he walked into. She could envision the husband's grief-stricken, fevered face as he pleaded with his dead wife, and she could see the oldest daughter's dark hair on the white sheets.

Feeling horribly guilty for begging him over and over again to think of himself, to stay home and protect himself, she buried her face in her hands and cried her heart out for the family he told her about and for all the countless others who had been already dead for nearly a hundred years. Before, she'd never really thought about any of them; they were just numbers to her, not real, not like her Edward.

But to Edward, they were real people.

They could be people he may have seen every day of his life or total strangers, it didn't matter. He was risking his life to try to help them, and it caused him pain when he wasn't able to. She was asking him to think only of himself while he was thinking only of others. He was her hero and through her tears she wrote telling him so.

If he could be brave, so could she.

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_September 27, 1918_

_Dearest Bella,_

_Bianca survived the night, but died only minutes after my mother and I arrived at the hospital. Bianca, that was her name, the girl I told you of. It's Italian for "white." Her fever spiked to nearly 105 before she died. She was barely conscious and cyanotic. Her lungs were so filled with fluid she was scarcely able to breathe, and she was in such terrible pain. Shortly before we arrived, she developed a terrible nosebleed, as many do. Although her face was cleaned at least–as terrible as it is the staff was simply stretched too thin, especially overnight, and with so very many in need of their help no one had yet had time to clean her fully–she died on bloodied, sweat soaked sheets and with her foamy blood on her clothing and matted in her hair. My mother had just gone in search of clean things for her, and I sat with her and pushed her hair back away from her face. She died as I sat there with her. Although I do not think she had any sense that someone was there, I am glad, at least, that she did not die alone as so many others have. I closed her eyes and took her sheet from the ends, flipping it so the bloodied area was at her feet, and covered her face with the cleaner portion. Her poor father wailed pitiably. I had not realized he was watching me. My mother returned just then with our doctor friend and tried in vain to console the distraught man..._

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_September 29, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I have sad news of a more personal nature. The brother of our cook, Nellie, a private in the First Infantry Division, was one of the first to ship out last summer. Her mother received a telegram yesterday to inform her he had been stricken ill with the influenza and succumbed after five days. Another brother came to the house late yesterday evening to tell her. Of course, she wished to be with her mother, and I drove them back to their mother's house. I am so terribly sorry. He had been there for a year and survived, only to fall victim to this wretched influenza..._

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_October 2, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_The stock market is now only open half days. Many churches have closed, including ours. More and more homes have black crepe on the door, and more people are beginning to wear masks. Please do not worry, I have been wearing mine faithfully, tightly to my face as you instructed, and I have insisted on my mother's wearing one as well, just as I promised. We are also washing our hands frequently and being careful to not touch our faces. We have been at the hospital or in town administering to the sick for eight days straight. The sheer numbers of those ill and suffering is greater than I can say._

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Edward set his pen down and rubbed his tired eyes. He and his mother were now spending as many as fifteen hours a day some days working at the hospital or going out into the city with Dr. Cullen.

He knew they were in for much worse before it got any better, and he did not know how he was going to do it. He was already weary to the bone, his back as well as every joint and muscle in his body ached, and right now, all he wanted was a hot bath and his bed.

He worried for his mother; she already looked ready to drop from exhaustion, and he could not imagine how Dr. Cullen was managing. Edward was beginning to suspect that the only times the man ever left the hospital were when they went to the city to call on the sick who could not or would not come to the hospital or when he was ordered home to sleep, which Edward knew had already happened more than once.

Edward stretched and heard his joints crack before resuming his letter to Bella. As badly as he wanted to collapse into his bed, he needed to finish his letter first, or as tired as he was, he knew he would not be able to sleep properly. Despite her protests, he still felt badly burdening her with what he was going through; however, he was not exaggerating when he told her how much of a help it was to him to have her to share this living nightmare with.

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_October 3, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_The family I have been telling you about, the Rinaldi's, the father and another child passed away today. From a family of eight, two children are all that remain. I was very surprised, I had truly expected the father to pull through. He had seemed to have such a will to survive. He watched helplessly as four of his six children lost their fight with the influenza one after another, the last dying only a few hours before he, himself, did. I cannot begin to imagine how he suffered. I wonder now if he did not fight for himself only long enough to not leave any of his children alone. The two young surviving brothers now have no family in the world except each other. Fortunately, the husband and wife who had been caring for their family along with so many others have been caring for them since their release and have agreed to give them a home with them. They are childless and will raise them as their own. Having lost their family, it seems heartless to say it, but in truth, in that respect, they are two very lucky little boys. They will stay together and grow up loved as part of a family. They could so easily have ended up in an orphanage and separated. This miserable influenza has made orphans of so many children..._

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_October 5, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I spoke to Will today at the hospital. He and his family are volunteering as well, as are many of my friends. Every time I speak to them, which is unfortunately not often, I have been reminding them to wash their hands frequently and to not touch their faces. Even though we spend so many hours in the same hospital, it is so hectic and there are so many in need of help, there is simply no time to do more than nod your head in greeting when we pass in the hall. I worry for them, and I ask that you will keep them in your thoughts. He told me that Albert's body has still not been identified, and his aunt and uncle fear that he may never be returned home..._

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_October 6, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I still have not received the photographs from the developers, I suspect the delay is due to the epidemic. As you said, many businesses are closed or severely understaffed. I hope they will arrive soon. A reminder of normal would be wonderful. I was able to have your painting framed before the epidemic began, and I keep it on my bedside table to remind me that life will return to normal. There will be more picnics next summer..._

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_October 8, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_Lillian and Irene's younger sister, Anna, was admitted to the hospital today. Her father is disconsolate. She is only thirteen-years-old, and he would not permit her to come to the hospital to work with her sisters. Instead, she went with their housemaid to the Red Cross to make masks..._

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"Lillian? This is my friend, Dr. Cullen. You met at the 4th of July picnic. Do you remember?"

Lillian Stevenson sat at her sister's bedside with an open book on her lap and turned swollen, red eyes up at Edward and Dr. Cullen with a look of complete confusion on her face.

"Lillian?"

"Miss Stevenson?" Dr. Cullen gently placed the back of his hand against Lillian's forehead, and she drew back with a violent shudder.

Edward looked at his friend's flushed face and glassy eyes and felt panic well up inside him.

Dr. Cullen had originally come to examine Anna, who was sleeping fitfully, but now he was knelt beside Lillian with his stethoscope against her back, listening to her lungs. "Edward, aspirin and VapoRub please."

"Lillian…"

"Edward!"

The urgency in Dr. Cullen's voice snapped Edward out of his panic, and he hurried off to get aspirin and VapoRub for one of his closest friends, his heart pounding in his chest in angry terror. How many of those he loved would he watch fall ill? How many would he watch succumb as he stood by helplessly?

As he ran to the supply cupboard, he saw Will pushing a gurney, taking another victim to the morgue. With just one look at Edward's face the same fear showed on his own. The two old friends looked at each other for barely a moment before Will licked his lips nervously. "Who?"

"Lillian."

"Dear God…."

"I must hurry."

"Yes, yes, of course. Where will they put her?"

"I do not know, near Anna I hope. Dr. Cullen and I just found her fevered and confused sitting at her bedside."

"I will come at the first opportunity."

With that, Edward retrieved the medication and returned, running, to Anna's bedside.

In her confused state of mind, Lillian struggled weakly against Dr. Cullen, but he managed to get her to swallow several aspirins. As weak as her struggle had been, it was enough to exhaust her completely, and she collapsed limply with her head against Edward's shoulder, panting and wheezing.

Dr. Cullen had just stood, lifting her easily into his arms, when they heard a loud shriek filled with the fear and pain they had grown far too familiar with. "NO!" Mr. Stevenson and Irene had just entered the ward in time to see Dr. Cullen lift Lillian in his arms, and both came running to them. Edward heard Dr. Cullen speaking to them, but Irene's shout had woken Anna, who started coughing violently. He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled the young girl up into a sitting position, leaning her against his chest, and rubbed her back while talking soothingly into her ear. Edward desperately wanted to go to Lillian, but Dr. Cullen, her father, and sister were with her. Right now, he knew, Lillian would want him to stay with Anna.

Remembering his father, Edward worried at how very hot the child felt in his arms. When Anna's coughing quieted, he leaned back and looked at her face. Her hair and nightshirt were soaked with sweat, and her hair was plastered to the side of her bright pink face, but thankfully, there was none of the bloody, foamy sputum so many brought up as they coughed. Edward closed his eyes in relief and said a short prayer of thanks.

Anna swallowed and looked around the ward tiredly. He could see it hurt her to swallow, and he poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table near her bed. "I'm sorry it's warm, Sweet Pea, but drink up. You need fluids to help you get well."

He helped her take several small sips before she looked around the ward again. "Where's Lillian? She was reading to me." Her voice sounded so weak and tired, so unlike herself, but she sounded aware and alert.

Edward's heart broke at the thought of having to be the one to tell her Lillian was ill as well. He gently tucked the young girl's hair behind her ears in a futile attempt to make her at least a little more comfortable. Mostly, he was stalling. He did not know if her father would want her to be told or not or if Dr. Cullen would suggest waiting a day or two if possible until, hopefully, she was stronger.

He was also afraid that if she cried, she'd start coughing again.

"Lillian went to get something to eat and to lie down in Dr. Cullen's office while you slept, Buttercup. I promised her I would sit with you. How about I read to you for a little while?"

.

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_October 9, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_Lillian is ill now as well. We found her sitting at Anna's bedside..._

_._

_._

_._

_October 10, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_A bed became available next to Anna during the night–I need not say how, I am sure–and our friend was able to move Lillian close to her sister. It will be easier on their father and Irene, but I am afraid it might not be for the better after all. Their father did not wish for Anna to be told that Lillian had fallen ill, but she did not need to be. When she was told that night that Lillian had returned home she looked her father in the face and asked not to be lied to. As ill as she is, her voice held the strength of a grown man's as she said she knew Lillian would not have left the hospital without coming to say goodbye to her, and when her father was too overcome with emotion to answer her, she knew the truth. _

_Of the two, Lillian is much worse off, and I am truly afraid for her. This miserable influenza has taken a very strong hold. Either Lillian, Irene, or their father was at Anna's bedside almost every moment, both at home and once she was brought to the hospital. I am afraid Lillian ignored her early symptoms, not being willing to leave her sister, and I fear she is much the worse for it. Anna is now determined to nurse her sister and is not following the doctor's orders to stay in bed and rest. Their father and Irene are at their bedsides as much as possible, but they cannot be there every minute. If someone is not present for even a few minutes, Anna is up and trying to take care of her sister..._

_.  
><em>

Reading Edward's words, Bella was frantic with worry. _No, no, no, no… Edward, you _have_ to stop her. She _has_ to rest. She _has_ to stay in bed. _

There were only two weeks of school left, but instead of studying for finals, Bella had been obsessively studying everything and anything she could find on the Spanish Influenza, hoping beyond hope that she would something, some small piece of information, some treatment that actually worked, or would have worked had they known about it.

Her mother and Phil had both tried to confront her several times, and her mother had even gone so far as to call her father. Even Sonia Ruiz had stopped her in the street one day as she hurried home from the bus to ask her about her studies. There had been a look on her face like Bella was a puzzle to figure out, making Bella strongly suspect that her mother had told their neighbor she'd been acting strangely and asked her to try to talk to her.

Bella knew they were all worried about her, and she felt terrible about it, but the worst of it would only be for three more weeks. Edward wouldn't be completely in the clear yet, but the danger would drop dramatically. If she bombed her finals, what did it really matter? She was only a sophomore, and her grades all year had been good. She'd be fine. Nothing mattered more than Edward getting through these next three weeks. All she could concentrate on was learning as much as she could about the epidemic. Any little thing she could learn might help him stay well. Some of what she'd found was a lot of nonsense, like a newspaper article she found from early November 1918 that recommended forcing yourself to sneeze and then breathing deeply or washing the inside of your nose with soap and water. But largely recommendations from then were the same as now. Eat right. Get enough exercise. Get enough sleep. Avoid crowded areas. If you do get sick, cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough and stay in bed.

Anna needed to stay in bed.

Edward had told her so much about his friends that she'd come to care about them as if they were friends of her own.

As she began to write to him, an idea suddenly occurred to her, and Bella was angry at herself for never having thought of it before.

She didn't have to find a treatment they hadn't had. She already had it.

Bella hurried to the bathroom and got Motrin, Tylenol Cold and Flu, and Mucinex from the medicine cabinet, pouring most of them out into her hand. When she got back to her room she dropped them into the hidden compartment with a short note telling Edward what they are, how many to use, and warning him not to use more than she said.

Bella felt a little less helpless as she finished her letter, and she was determined to get whatever medication she could for him. If she said she felt sick, could she get a prescription for antibiotics, she wondered? She didn't have a fever, and any test results would be negative. She bit her lip nervously. Even though she'd never in her life even smoked a cigarette or had a beer, she knew who at school she would need to go to if she couldn't get the antibiotics Edward needed from her own doctor. Antibiotics were hardly your normal street drug, but everyone knew there were places where addicts could get prescriptions for pain killers without ever being examined by or even seeing a real doctor. She would just need to find out what antibiotics or other prescription drugs she would need and tell them. They'd think she was strange, but what did she care? All she needed was a prescription, she could get it filled at any pharmacy in town and pay with her babysitting money. Edward needed those drugs.

Nervous, but with a sense of purpose, Bella opened the drawer to send him her letter and swore furiously.

The note she'd written was gone, but the pills were still there.

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_October 11, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_Thank you for trying, but I didn't get the pills you tried to send. I suppose you already know that. _

_I am afraid I do not have any better news to report regarding Lillian. Her condition has not changed. I suppose we must be grateful that it has not deteriorated. We finally managed to get Anna to stay in bed, but we had to resort to threatening to move her into another ward in the hospital if she got out of bed again..._

_._

_._

_._

_October 14, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_Lillian continues in her drug-induced deep sleep. She appears nearly catatonic. I am truly afraid, Bella. Her fever is so very high, and she has not had any nourishment, not even water, in far too long. I refuse to abandon all hope, but I fear that with each hour that passes that hope diminishes. I do not know how Irene will ever go on without her. As long as I have known them, which is most of my life, they have always been like two peas in a pod. They are so close in age, many people have mistaken them for twins. True twins could not be closer._

_The wife of an attorney my father worked with passed away yesterday. They had only been married for two years. It is especially tragic because the poor lady was with child. This damned–forgive me–influenza seems most deadly to women in that delicate condition. It seems that of those who fall ill, as many will die as will survive. My mother and I were at the hospital at the time and expressed our condolences, but were unable to offer more than words. I remember their kindness to us after my father's death, and I am deeply grieved that we are unable to repay it. __Mother and I are nearly every waking moment at the hospital or going out into the city. Grocers, florists, and other business are closed. The poor man cannot even give his dear wife a proper funeral. __They have enacted an emergency measure banning them. Services may be held, but only without the body, and they are limited to ten people. I am so very sorry for him. The only kindness I was able to do for him was to take her body to the hospital's small morgue myself, as opposed to a complete stranger taking her. _

_Of all the things I must do, this is by far the one I dread the most. I think it must be the one everyone dreads the most. The hospital only has a very small morgue that normally only has a maximum of five bodies. There are easily well over one hundred there now, and the stench, not only in that room but anywhere near it, is not something that can be described. The bodies are stacked one on top of another almost to the ceiling all over the room and even out into the hallway. I truly hate going in there. I cannot help but think of the poor people on the bottom of the pile. It is a horrible degradation, but it cannot be helped. Undertakers simply cannot keep up. Conditions are equally as bad everywhere. _

_I had a terrible nightmare last night of that horrible place. I dreamed I became ill and was taken to the morgue before I was dead. They wrapped me in a bloody sheet and laid me on top of a pile of bodies before laying more bodies on top of me. I awoke in a state of absolute terror, tangled in and clawing at my bed covers. I did not know fear like that existed. I believe I have a somewhat better understanding of what the soldiers suffering from shell shock endure now. _

_I always try to be as respectful of the deceased as possible, but in this case I tried doubly so. Although prior to my father's death, I had only met her twice, at Christmas parties, it broke my heart to leave the poor lady in that horrible place. So much promise and hope for a bright, happy future–all lost. _

_As I said, the undertakers and funeral parlors are unable to keep up, and there is a shortage of caskets. I fear we may run out entirely, as I have heard some places already have. There are not enough hearses, and trolleys have been draped in black and are being used. I have also heard, although I do not know for certain, that bodies are even being stored in school auditoriums and gymnasiums, including my own school. The gravediggers cannot keep up, and sometimes families are forced to dig graves for their own loved ones. _

_I cannot help but think of you whenever I am reminded of that poor lady. I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you, Bella. I could not. You must promise me you will get the vaccine the very moment it becomes available. I remain,_

_Your Friend,_

_Edward_

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It was barely seven o'clock in the morning, and Edward and his mother walked tiredly into the ward to check on Lillian before beginning their assigned duties. Edward's eyes were trained firmly on the floor as he walked, afraid of what he might see if he looked up, and his mother had his arm, guiding him.

Elizabeth gasped suddenly, one hand flying to her mouth, and the other hand tightening its grip on Edward's arm. Involuntarily, Edward looked up and took two steps toward his friend's bedside before he had to brace himself on a nearby table to keep from falling to the ground his relief was so great. Lillian was sitting up in her bed, and a young woman, whom Edward knew to be a first year nursing student, was sitting next to her feeding her broth.

"I tried to telephone you, but your maid said you had just left." Edward turned to Dr. Cullen, who had just come up behind them, unable to think of the words to thank him. Dr. Cullen continued, "I've just come from speaking to her father on the telephone. He was so overcome it was some time before he could do more than thank the Lord. Of course, he is on his way."

Edward could do no more than nod his head before hurrying to his friend and holding her tightly. He considered Lillian's recovery nothing short of a miracle. She had been so very ill and, even though he'd refused to abandon all hope, he'd understood there had been very little chance of her recovering. As he took the bowl of broth from the young woman and fed his friend, he thanked God for what he felt was surely the second miracle he had been witness to.

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_October 17, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_Lillian continues to improve at home, though very slowly. She is still mostly in bed and is unable to take more than a few steps at a time when she is out of it, and she has not yet had anything more than water, broth, and thin porridge. However, with how very sick she was, even that is more than we dared hope for only a short while ago. We were given a gift of a bushel of apples, and Nellie is making applesauce for her. _

_A neighbor of my Uncle Charles and Aunt Grace's died at home last night; he had only become ill that morning. He left a wife and seven children. When he first fell ill, my aunt and uncle took the children into their home in an effort to keep them away from the illness. At least the children were spared the pain of seeing their father suffering under this wretched illness. That is something I would not wish on anyone._

_I have seen many examples of bravery and selflessness, but as much as this epidemic has in many cases brought out the best in some people, it has brought out the worst in others. As I have told you, undertaking houses are working around the clock, but are unable to keep up. I was told at the hospital today that some are trying to profit and are charging exorbitant fees, many times more than normal... _

_._

_._

_._

_October 19, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I went out again into the city to pay house calls to the sick. As horrible as the hospital is, I believe going into the city is worse. You cannot go anywhere in the city without seeing patrol wagons or trolleys draped in black and pressed into service as hearses collecting the bodies of the dead. They seem to be everywhere. Today, I saw a man and woman carry what looked to be a wooden macaroni box out of the house, and the man very gently, reverently, placed it in the wagon. He turned to the woman, and she immediately wailed and collapsed into his arms. The box could only have contained the body of an infant of no more than seven or eight months, it was not big enough for anything else. The poor couple lost their baby and had nothing but an old macaroni box to bury the child in. _

_Although I know it is too much to hope for, as I know you would have told me, it was reported in the newspaper that a doctor in Philadelphia has announced he has developed a preventative vaccine for the influenza and 10,000 inoculations are to be sent to the Philadelphia Board of Health. Of course, this has caused great hope at the hospital..._

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"Mother, what is it? Who was that on the telephone?" Edward had just finished dressing and come downstairs. He could not remember the last time he had come downstairs this late in the morning. He and his mother had both been either at the hospital, Red Cross, or on visits to the sick in their homes with Dr. Cullen for he didn't know how many days straight, and he had finally ordered them both to stay home today and rest.

For himself, Edward was annoyed at being treated like a child, but for his mother, he agreed she needed to rest.

His mother was standing at the telephone still in her dressing gown. "Edward…" She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes as the telephone slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground, and he hurried forward and helped her to a the nearest chair as he called loudly for Nellie or Maggie.

His mother's voice trembled. "Grace… It was Grace… on the telephone just now…."

Both Nellie and Maggie came to them. Nellie quickly returned to the kitchen and brought her mistress a strong cup of coffee with a large shot of brandy, and after a few sips Elizabeth was able to compose herself and stood. "I must dress quickly. That was Grace on the telephone. Charles is ill. George is on his way to their house this minute to drive them to the hospital. I must go to the hospital immediately."

Edward felt his stomach drop to his feet, and he raced up the stairs. He wrote a quick note to Bella and hurried back downstairs to quickly eat something while Maggie helped his mother dress. Nellie then went upstairs to help if she was needed and returned with his mother's breakfast tray. Edward was glad to note that nearly everything had been eaten.

Edward and his mother arrived at the hospital less than an hour after his Aunt Grace's telephone call, and Dr. Cullen was one of the first people they saw. He looked about ready to scold them for disobeying his orders and coming in, but quickly checked himself once he saw the look on Elizabeth's face. Edward quickly explained about his uncle, and Dr. Cullen accompanied them as they attempted to locate him.

There were simply not enough beds for all the sick, and there were sick people laying everywhere, in the hallways on cots and even on the floor. They found them in a hallway sitting at the tables and chairs from the doctor's lounge, which had been brought out and were being used trying to at least keep the sick from having to lie on the floor. Charles Johnson had not yet been seen by a doctor, and Dr. Cullen quickly examined him before the man had a terrible fit of coughing. Once the coughing stopped, he groaned and fell into a restless sleep with his head on his folded arms.

After addressing Edward's aunt and promising to find her husband a bed as soon as possible and that he would take as good care of him as possible, Dr. Cullen asked Edward to speak to him privately. "Edward, you must take your mother back home." Edward tried to protest, but the doctor interrupted him "No. The woman is utterly exhausted. I know she wishes to stay with her brother, but she needs to rest. I am concerned about her. She is pushing herself far too hard. She is not young like you, and for these past three months she has not always eaten or slept enough. I worry that if she falls ill herself, she will not have the strength to fight the disease."

Dr. Cullen could not possibly have chosen his words better. He highlighted Edward's worst fear. Edward swallowed and licked his dry lips before nodding his head and speaking slowly, his eyes fixed on his mother further down the hall. "The children… my cousins, Kitty and Charlie, are with neighbors. I will tell her we should take them home. Another neighbor…. They will be frightened. Another neighbor died a couple days ago. They will be frightened. We should take them home with us. They should be with family."

Between the two of them, they tried to persuade Elizabeth, but ultimately it was only the entreaty from her sister-in-law, who had no family of her own in Chicago, that she care for her children while her husband was ill that convinced Elizabeth to leave her brother.

After George promised to let her know immediately if there was any change in their brother's condition and reminded her that Sarah and Edie would be in this afternoon with their girls, Elizabeth allowed her son to escort her back to where they had parked the car.

The moment Kitty and Charlie saw them walk through the door both children ran crying to them. They assured the children all was well and returned to their home to gather their belongings before taking them home with them. Edward and his mother spent the day trying in vain to distract the children from their fears for their father. Edward had just read them a bedtime story, and after helping them with their prayers he tucked them in and wished them both sweet dreams.

Most seventeen-year-old boys would not relish the thought of reading stories to small children, but Edward had grown up an only child wishing he had younger brothers and sisters and was secretly treasuring his time with his cousins in spite of the reason for it. He had just switched off the electric light when Charlie called his name.

"What is it, sport?"

"Is my daddy going to die like Mr. Dunbar?"

The question hit Edward like a punch to the stomach, and it nearly doubled him over. Only a small child could ask such a simple, blunt question of such a terrible subject.

Edward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before walking back over to his cousin's bed with no idea how to answer him. He sat down on the side of his bed and Charlie scrambled onto his lap a moment before Kitty joined them. Both children looked up him with tear-filled eyes, their lips quivering, and it no longer mattered that he didn't know how to answer. He just held them close to him as they cried themselves to sleep.

Not long afterward, Elizabeth came to check on them, since Edward had not come back downstairs, and found all three of them sound asleep together on Charlie's bed.

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_October 22, 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_My Uncle Charles is still in the hospital, and his fever remains far too high. However, fortunately, the influenza has not developed into pneumonia, and I am very hopeful that we will get his fever under control, and he will soon be able to return home. _

_Charlie and Kitty are still with us. I can confess it only to you, but despite the reason for it, I am enjoying having them here more than I can say. They are the dearest children in the world. I have always wished I had younger brothers and sisters, but sadly, it was not meant to be. I was born much too early, and my mother was unable to have another child. The doctors did not expect me to survive, but my mother says I showed them a thing or two. I have begun to wonder if that is not part of the reason my Uncle Richard and Aunt Josephine dislike my mother so intently. Shortly before I was born, they lost their oldest child to illness. I survived, but their child did not. I cannot help but wonder if that did not exacerbate their dislike of her..._

_._

_._

_._

Bella writes:

_June 20, 2009_

_Happy 108th Birthday , Edward! I baked a cake, but I'm afraid if I put candles on it I'd burn the house down. I hope you like your present..._

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Edward was awoken in the middle of the night by what he considered to be the worst sound in the world. And it was coming from his cousins' bedroom. After a moment, in which he was frozen with fear, he jumped out of bed and ran to their room. He threw the door open and rushed into the room. Little Charlie was laying down in his bed curled up into a ball and coughing violently.

In her bed, Kitty was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth, and crying.

Edward felt Charlie's face and swore under his breath before picking the little boy up in his arms and running with him back to his own bedroom. He passed his mother in the hallway. Nellie and Maggie were coming down the stairs from their third floor bedrooms.

"Mother, go to Kitty. She is frightened."

Edward carried his youngest cousin into his room and laid him down gently in his own bed before quickly pulling on the trousers he'd worn the day before and putting a jacket on over his nightshirt. His mother came into his room with Kitty in her arms as he was putting shoes on, and he said to her, "I am taking Charlie to the hospital."

Kitty buried her face in her aunt's neck and cried harder. His mother tried to insist on coming with him, saying she'd promised their mother to take care of them, but with Nellie and Maggie's help Edward convinced her she needed to stay here with Kitty. He wrapped little Charlie in a blanket, carried him down to the car, and pushed his father's prized Cadillac touring car to speeds he'd never have dared through the quiet city streets had he been thinking rationally.

In the seat beside him, Charlie had fallen back to sleep.

Edward came to a screeching halt and hastened to get Charlie out of the car, leaving it forgotten in the middle of the street outside the hospital, and ran into the building with his cousin in his arms pleading for someone to help him.

A nurse came up to them and tried to take Charlie from him, but he wouldn't give him up to her.

"No, Dr. Cullen. Where is Dr. Cullen? Please, he has to help him. He's only six years old. Please, where is Dr. Cullen? He has to help him."

"Edward Masen, isn't it? Don't worry, my dear. Give the little boy to me. Dr. Cullen is very busy."

"No, I need Dr. Cullen. Please, he has to help him."

Edward persisted, and after a minute Dr. Cullen appeared. "Don't worry, Nurse Hopkins. I will take him."

Nurse Hopkins did not look at all pleased at Edward's refusal to allow her to take the child from him, but in front of the authority of Dr. Cullen, she acquiesced and nodded her head to him before returning to her duties.

Dr. Cullen examined little Charlie, the child still in Edward's arms. The commotion had woken the little boy up again, and he started to cry for his mother. Scared, Edward was shaking and fighting his own tears as he tried to calm Charlie's fears.

After listening to his chest, Dr. Cullen sadly told him that they did not have a bed for his cousin.

"I do not care. I will hold him. I will sit on the floor, if I have to."

Resigned, Dr. Cullen nodded sadly and helplessly and took him to his uncle's bed, where Edward sat with his cousin on his lap.

"I will come as often as I can, Edward. There are so many waiting for a bed that I cannot promise I will be able to get him one soon. Give me your keys, I will move your car."

In complete exhaustion, Edward yawned deeply before handing over his keys and thanking the doctor for his help.

The hours passed slowly, and Edward slept off and on, awkwardly leaning his head against the metal rim of the back of the chair, while Charlie slept through the night on his lap. Edward did not know what time it was when Dr. Cullen took little Charlie from his arms, but he had watched as the overcast sky brightened slowly until it was a light enough dove gray to indicate that behind it the sun had risen fully.

Dr. Cullen spoke softly, "I have a cot for him. It is not a proper bed, but it is better than nothing."

As he stood and stretched his aching muscles, Edward rubbed his hand over his face.

Dr. Cullen was tucking the little boy in when the child's father woke up.

"Oh, dear Lord, no. Please, no."

"Uncle Charles–"

Charles Johnson's eyes were fixed on his son before they turned, wide and frightened, to his nephew. His voice was raspy. "Edward… what happened?"

"He woke up in the middle of the night, and I rushed him here. I'm so sorry, Uncle Charles."

Dr. Cullen examined his cousin and uncle. He explained, "Mr. Johnson, Edward arrived with your son shortly before 1:30 this morning and has been sitting at your bedside with the child ever since. I have only just now been able to get a cot for him. Your little boy has slept through the night as well as could be hoped, which is a very good sign. He has a very high fever, but his lungs are clear. Once he wakes up, we will get some aspirin and liquids into him, and hopefully he will take some porridge."

Dr. Cullen turned sternly to Edward. "Edward, you are to go home, eat, and go straight to bed. Is that clear? You have barely slept all night, and you must keep your strength up."

All Edward wanted was to stay with Charlie, but he was too tired to argue, and judging by Dr. Cullen's tone he would brook no arguments this time. He yawned again and rubbed his eyes before telling his uncle that he and his mother would be in this evening to see them both.

Edward was so tired and his body ached so badly from spending the night in that awful chair that he wasn't sure how he managed to drive himself back home. His mother was pacing back and forth in the parlor when he arrived, and she embraced him tightly the moment he walked through the door.

"Oh thank heaven you are home. Dr. Cullen telephoned. Grace is at the hospital now and thanked you with all her heart for staying with little Charlie all night."

Edward yawned and rubbed his eyes again. His throat was sore from breathing the dry air in the hospital all night.

"It was the least I could do. I could hardly leave him. Dr. Cullen managed to find a cot for him only just a short while ago, and he is next to his father. I am so tired. I believe I could sleep for a week."

"Come, dearest. Come, eat something first. Dr. Cullen stressed that he wants you to eat. Maggie is keeping a plate warm for you."

The thought of eating anything turned Edward's stomach and made his sore throat ache, but he understood the need to eat to keep his strength up. And a glass of cold water would help soothe his dry throat.

After forcing himself to eat the eggs and nibble at the bacon and toast on his plate, Edward dragged himself up the stairs to his room. He sat down at their desk and took his jacket and shoes off, dropping them onto the floor and leaving them where they fell. He was getting a pounding headache from sleeping with his head resting against the metal frame of the chair he'd slept in, and he laid his throbbing head down on their desk and fell asleep right there.

A short while later, his mother came in to check on him, and he awoke with his body aching even worse after sleeping huddled over at their desk. Edward rubbed his sore eyes and promised her to get straight into bed, and she left the room to bring him a hot toddy and some aspirin.

As soon as his mother left, Edward wrote to Bella pouring his whole heart out to her as quickly as he could before his mother returned. He told her about Charlie getting sick, and his fears for his little cousin. He wrote of how incredibly tired he felt, how desperately he wished to wake up from this nightmare, and before he could stop himself, he confessed his feelings for her. Edward could feel his heart racing in his chest after he told her how much he loved her.

His eyes felt swollen with lack of sleep and irritation from his constant rubbing at them, and as he sat at their desk and closed the drawer, a sense of completion settled over him knowing his letter had been delivered.

He stood to go to bed, but he moved too quickly and lost his balance. He had to lean against his bed post for a moment until the dizziness passed. He took his trousers off as he walked and kicked them off completely as he climbed into bed. Collapsing against his pillows, Edward was sound asleep instantly.

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Well, there you have it. Let me know what you thought.

Historical Notes:

_From the personal account of Josie Mabel Brown, a Navy nurse who served at Great Lakes Naval Hospital during the height of the epidemic" _"On 11 Sept 1918 Washington officials disclosed that the Spanish Influenza had arrived in the city. On the next day 13 million men, precisely the age most likely to die of the flu, lined up all over the United States and crammed into city halls, post offices, and schools to register for the draft. "It was a gala flag-waving affair everywhere including Boston where 96,000 registered then sneezed and coughed on one another."

history . navy . mil / library / online / influenza% 20 epid % 20 1918 . h t m

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"This Flu was so virulent that doctors of the time did not even classify it as an influenza as most influenzas are quite mild. Some called it bronchopneumonia. Others thought that it might be a strain of botulism or dengue fever."

mysteries of canada Canada / spanish _ flu _ of _ 1918 . h t m  
>.<p>

_From the personal account of Josie Mabel Brown, a Navy nurse who served at Great Lakes Naval Hospital during the height of the epidemic: "_Josie boarded the train for Great Lakes to treat sailors suffering from what was thought to be cerebrospinal meningitis. After all, influenza, flu, old man grippe, whatever you called it, it was a homey, familiar illness. 'There were 6,000 boys sick and dying of influenza and we thought it was meningitis.' With a room of 42 beds and twice that many sick sailors, Josie often worked 18 hours a day. 'As the boys were brought in we would put winding sheets on them even if they weren't dead. You would always leave the left big toe exposed and tag it with the boy's name ran, and next of kin.' As one boy lay dying in bed, one waited on the stretcher on the floor for the bed to empty. Each morning as the ambulance drivers would bring in more sick boys they would carry the dead bodies out. The morgue was stacked to the ceiling with bodies because the casket makers could not make boxes fast enough. Josie often said she felt sorry for the poor boy on the bottom. However, as the weeks dragged on truck loads of caskets left daily for the train station to destinations listed on the 'tag' as next of kin.

history . navy . mil / library / online / influenza % 20 epid % 20 1918 . h t m

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"The fact that the influenza epidemic occurred following America's entry into World War I excited suspicions that it was the result of germ warfare. On September 19, 1918, the The Chicago Daily Tribune quoted health official Lt. Colonel Philip S. Doane, who suggested that 'Huns sent ashore' from German U-boats may have started the epidemic. It would have been easy, the health official speculated, for 'one of these German agents to turn loose Spanish influenza germs in a theater or other places where large numbers of people are assembled.' In an atmosphere rife with anti-German hysteria (sauerkraut had been rechristened "Liberty cabbage"), Doane's dark suspicions seemed all too plausible."

book of odds Accidents-Death / Articles / A0196 - Flu - Week - The - Spanish - Flu - A - Snapshot - from - Chicago - in - 1918

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"There are 4,500 cases of Spanish influenza at the Greak Lakes naval training station, and there have been more than a hundred deaths since Sept. 9, according to a statement issued by Capt. William A Moffett, commandant, to allay the fears of relatives of men in training and to set at rest sensational rumors of the ravages of the malady. Capt. Moffett declared the situation well in hand; there being now only about 1,000 cases sufficiently serious to warrant their transfer to base hospital. Liberty of the men had been restricted, he explained, only as a precautionary measure to protect the surrounding civilian population. The number of cases is decreasing at a rate of 10 per cent a day, Capt. Moffett said."

go live wire forums / peer - tsbeat - support - a . h t m l

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"Terrible stories emerged, particularly of those in the grip of delirium from the fever. One Chicago nurse found an 8-year-old wandering the streets delirious, and when she returned him to his home, she found that all four of his siblings had temperatures above 104 degrees. The father, also sick, had accidentally given his ailing wife camphorated oil, a poison, rather than castor oil."

book of odds Accidents-Death / Articles / A0196 - Flu - Week - The - Spanish - Flu - A - Snapshot - from - Chicago - in - 1918

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"Every day, the News-Democrat ran a story on 'Spanish Influenza - What It Is and How it Should Be Treated,' which, if you read to the end, turned out to be an unmarked ad for Vick's VapoRub. 'Go to bed and stay quiet,' the *story* advised. 'Take a laxative, eat plenty of nourishing food, keep up your strength. Nature is the cure.'

bnd 2008 / 07 / 16 / 397078 /in - sickness - and - in - health - belleville . h t m l

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"Some brands known today got a big boost. 'Epidemics are born of dirt and ignorance,' one advertisement read—'Disinfect your home regularly and thoroughly with Lysol™.' Vicks VapoRub™ became a household name, selling 900,000 jars in a single day in October. " (Could you just imagine? Trying to fight possibly the deadliest epidemic in history and Vicks VapoRub is one of your strongest weapons.)

book of odds Accidents-Death / Articles / A0196 - Flu - Week - The - Spanish - Flu - A - Snapshot - from - Chicago - in - 1918

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"October 2, 1918 ... Churches were closed and the stock market was put on half-days."

pbs wgbh / american experience / features / timeline / influenza / ? flavour = mobile

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"November 3, 1918 - The News of the World prints some flu prevention suggestions: 'Wash inside of nose with soap and water each night and morning. Force yourself to sneeze night and morning, then breathe deeply. Do not wear a muffler. Take sharp walks regularly and walk home from work. Eat plenty of porridge.'"

pandemic - flu - guide influenza - 1918 . h t m l

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"Pregnant women were particularly at risk. In Cook County Hospital, 46% of expectant mothers hospitalized for influenza or the resulting pneumonia died"."

book of odds Accidents-Death / Articles / A0196 - Flu - Week - The - Spanish - Flu - A - Snapshot - from - Chicago - in - 1918

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"By October 14, the city had suffered more than 1,400 deaths, and on 'Black Thursday,' October 17th, 381 people died in a 24-hour period. The city ran out of hearses, and passenger trolleys were draped in black and pressed into service. Funerals were restricted to 10 adults, and dance halls, theaters, and movie houses were closed in an effort to stem contagion. The public health measures were spotty, as this headline indicated: 'Nonessential Crowds Barred in Epidemic War: Churches and Saloons Exempt.' Parades were banned except for 'patriotic purposes,' like the Liberty Day March that attracted over 100,000. Police were ordered to arrest anyone caught spitting and 'every person found coughing or sneezing without using a handkerchief.'

book of odds Accidents-Death / Articles / A0196 - Flu - Week - The - Spanish - Flu - A - Snapshot - from - Chicago - in - 1918

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"In many cities, funerals also fell under the category of public gatherings and were subsequently banned. Aside from the fact that funerals had the potential to create 'dangerous' crowd situations, medical officials believed that the corpse was a source of infection. The following is typical of the laws passed across the country:  
>'There shall be no public church or chapel funerals held in Chicago over any body dead from any disease or cause whatsoever. No wakes or public gatherings of any kind shall be held in connection with these bodies… No dead body shall be taken into any church or chapel for funeral services in connection with such a body during the period of the present epidemic.'"<p>

schenectady history health / morris / 4 . h t m l

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"Now I remember so well, very well, directly across the street from us, a boy about 7, 8 years old died and they used to just pick you up and wrap you up in a sheet and put you in a patrol wagon. So the mother and father screaming. 'Let me get a macaroni box.' Before, macaroni, any kind of pasta used to come in these wooden boxes about this long and that high, that 20 lbs. of macaroni fitted in the box. 'Please, please, let me put him in the macaroni box. Let me put him in the box. Don't take him away like that.' And that was it. My mother had given birth to my youngest sister at the time and then, thank God, you know, we survived. But they were taking people out left and right. And the undertaker would pile them up and put them in the patrol wagons and take them away.'

history matters . gmu . edu / d / 13

(This identical story is noted on several websites, but the pasta boxes in my pantry are 14.5 oz, so say 21 of them to equal about 20 lbs of pasta, 21 of those boxes would be nowhere near big enough to but a 7 year old child in. An infant maybe, but not a 7 year old. I wonder if the story should not have been about a 7 or 8 month old. As a 7 year old weighs about 50 lbs, that sounds much more likely to me. Picture a 7 year old child, now picture a wooden box that size. Way more than 20lbs of pasta would fit in that box, I think. I changed it to an infant for my story.)

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"...families had to dig their own graves"

history matters . gmu . edu / d / 13

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"The undertaking parlours couldn't handle the bodies as people died. And I have this vague memory that they were having to use school auditoriums and places like that to store bodies temporarily."

rense general 85 / span . h t m

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"The task of preparing and burying the dead was more easily said than done. In many cities, this essential service was near collapse. The sheer numbers of dead overwhelmed undertakers; they had never before faced such a huge number of dead at one time. During a pandemic, the breakdown of this particular service creates two major problems. First, the accumulation of bodies allows for the possibility of secondary epidemics caused by organisms that thrive on dead flesh. Second, and perhaps more significantly, the build up of corpses will lower and eventually break the morale of the population. Private undertaking houses were working around the clock at full capacity, and many were trying to turn misery into profit by raising their prices, sometimes as high as 600%. Some cemeteries were charging burial fees and then making the relatives of the deceased dig the graves themselves."

schenectady history health / morris / 4 . h t m l

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"On October 19, 1918, Dr. C. Y. White announced that he had developed a vaccine that would prevent Spanish Influenza. In short order, over ten thousand complete series of inoculations were delivered to the Philadelphia Board of Health. Whether or not the so-called vaccine played much of a role in loosening this strain of influenza's grip on Philadelphia was a matter of much debate. Mortality and morbidity rates did fall after the vaccine was introduced, but some health officials maintained that the flu had already reached its peak and was waning anyway."

history - world spanish _ influenza _ of _ 1918 . h t m


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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This story is also being posted on The Writer's Coffee Shop. There is some formatting in this chapter that FFn does not support, which shows up the way I wanted it to on the other site. The chapter is identical, only the formatting of one section is different. I think the formatting adds to the impact of the scene, but that's only my opinion. There will be other chapters to come that I will have to edit for FFn or risk having my story pulled and losing all my wonderful reviews; they will be posted in their entirety on the other site. I'll put a note on any chapter that is edited from its original version for FFn.

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Special mid-week update to celebrate the birth of my grandson, Joey! July 17th, 2:16 P.M, 6 lbs 12 1/2 ozs, 20 1/2 inches long, and positively, without a doubt, the most beautiful baby in the last 16 years (since his aunt was a baby). My own personal and admitedly very biased opinion, of course. Pity it couldn't have been a happier chapter, though, not much of a celebration type chapter.

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_October 24, 1918_

_My dearest Bella,_

_I was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of little Charlie coughing terribly. I ran to his room, and he was burning up with fever. He was perfectly well only a few hours earlier. I rushed him to the hospital, but every bed is filled, and I had no alternative but to spend the night in a metal chair next to his father's bed holding him on my lap. His little body was so hot; he felt like a hot coal in my arms. I did manage to sleep some, but not well. I am so dreadfully tired, and I ache terribly. Fortunately, little Charlie slept as well as we could hope, and Dr. Cullen managed to find a cot for him to sleep on a short while ago. I left the hospital once his father was awake, and Charlie was still asleep on the cot next to his father. My poor uncle was, of course, distraught to see his son ill. I hope it does not impact his own recovery. Charlie is the dearest little boy in the world. I cannot stand the thought of his suffering with this influenza. _

_There is only one more week until the end of October. I have never in my life been as desperate for anything as I am for this next week to pass. I know it will not be completely over, but I pray the number of cases will drop so that the sick may at least have a proper bed in the hospital to die in. I feel as if I am trapped in a nightmare, and I fear that morning will never come. _

_My dearest Bella, my dearest friend, I have been keeping something from you which I feel I must now tell you. I have told you many times how very grateful I am for the miracle that allowed us to become friends, but that miracle has led to so much more than friendship. At least on my part. I have told you how very much I look forward to your letters and how much strength I am able to draw from them. I have told you that you mean so very much to me, but I have never told you exactly how much. I will do so now. I love you, Bella. I do not know exactly when I fell in love with you, as Mr. Darcy said, I was in the middle before I knew I'd begun. But I do love you, wholly, truly, and eternally, and my love for you grows with each day that passes. I know it is too much to hope for that you might ever feel the same, and indeed I do not wish for you to do so. To love someone so dearly while knowing all the while that you will never touch that person, never hold that person in your arms as you long to do, is a pain I would never wish for you to know. Still, I cannot regret falling in love with you. If the happiness you have given me these past few months is all I am to ever know, it is enough. I remain, _

_Yours,_

_Edward_

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_ He loves me, too. He loves me, too. He LOVES me, too. Oh, God, he loves me, too! _

Bella had found Edward's letter about twenty minutes ago, and she hadn't been able to tear her eyes away from it yet. The first ten times she'd read the part where he'd told her he loved her she'd been completely breathless. The next ten times, she'd been gasping for air. After she'd caught her breath, she'd covered her face with her hands and squealed. She was still sitting at their desk, but she couldn't sit still. Her legs were jumping in place, her feet were tapping, and her heart was hammering in her chest. At that moment, she was the happiest person in the world. She jumped up and threw herself onto her bed on her back, kicking her feet in the air and smiling so wide her face hurt. She rolled over onto her stomach and read the part where he told her he loved her at least a dozen more times.

She was home alone, so she could giggle and squeal and laugh and sigh as much and as loudly as she wanted. And she did. She was so happy, she felt like she could sing. The corniest, sappiest, most clichéd love songs she'd ever heard suddenly sounded like the world's finest poetry. She wanted to shout to the entire world that Edward loved her.

She let herself bask happily in the knowledge that Edward loved her for a little while longer before floating back to their desk to write back to him and tell him how much she loved him, too. She also told him she agreed with him completely. It did totally suck rocks to know that you would never be with the person you loved, but if this was all she ever got, she'd absolutely take it.

Once she'd finished her letter to him, she closed her eyes and smiled. It might seem a little old fashioned, like a scene from an old black and white movie–no, not just a black and white movie, like a scene from a silent movie–but she folded the letter and pressed a kiss to it before sending it to him. Bella rolled her eyes at herself, but as soon as she'd sent it she got the idea that she should've sprayed perfume on it, and she wished she'd been wearing lipstick, red lipstick, instead of just ChapStick.

She was acting like a fool in love. She knew it, and she did not care in the least. Since she first found out about the epidemic, she'd had no appetite or energy to do anything, but now she was starving, and she felt like she could run for miles.

It was still somewhat early in the morning, and she decided to make pancakes as a surprise for her mom and Phil.

And later she would call her dad.

After that, she would go over and say hello to the Ruizes. And Kenny, she had promised him she would take him to a game and a tour of the stadium. Maybe they could do that today. Why not? She felt like she could do absolutely anything today.

Because Edward loved her, too.

Bella thought to herself that if she tried, she just might be able to fly. That thought sent her into a fit of giggles remembering Edward's reaction to her telling him she was going to fly to Washington when she visited her father. _"Flying as in actually flying? In an aeroplane?"_

Right now, Bella doubted she'd need the plane.

She busied herself in the kitchen getting everything she'd need for pancakes ready, humming and smiling like a loon. Phil was at the gym with his team, and her mother was out jogging. That was her latest hobby. Physical fitness. At least it was one Bella knew she'd never be expected to participate in.

Sometimes, Bella thought the age difference between her mother and Phil really never occurred to either of them. They truly seemed to never notice the odd looks they sometimes got when one of them introduced the other. But the truth was that there were thirteen years between them, and whether or not they themselves ever noticed it, others often, if not always, did.

It didn't help matters that Phil really was a very good looking man. Her stepfather-to-be or not, the man was hot. He was tall, blonde, tanned, blue eyed, and muscular. He looked like the stereotypical athlete, a Ken doll come to life. But he was also smart and kind and funny, and anyone with eyes in their head could see how much he loved Renee.

Two weeks ago, there was an incident at a game where a bunch of baseball groupie wannabies fixed their sights on him. The area where the team came out of the locker room was closed to the public; only families were supposed to be allowed back there. Somehow, and Bella could just imagine how, these girls had managed to get back there too. It had been weeks since Bella had voluntarily left her room for more than the world's fastest shower, and her mother had had enough and put her foot down, insisting that she go to Phil's game that night with her to get out of the house for a little while. She and her mother had been talking to some of the other players' families when the team came out, and Phil had made to come right over to them like normal. Except these girls had intercepted him, making it perfectly and loudly clear just how wonderful they _all_ thought he was and how much they'd _all_ like to show him just how wonderful they _all _thought he was, _at the same time_.

After a moment of pure shock, Phil had cleared his throat uncomfortably and extricated himself as quickly as he could, coming right over to Renee and putting his arms around her.

Renee was not normally a jealous woman, but she was a woman, and she had looked right at those girls before giving Phil a kiss that bordered on public obscenity. There had been a lot of cat calling from his teammates, and Bella had nearly thrown up in her mouth, before they both came up for air.

The girls had stormed away angrily whispering back and forth, and Bella distinctly heard one say, "That was so totally gross. She's gotta be old enough to be his mother. That's just sick." She remembered she'd sucked in a sharp breath when she'd heard that, and had looked at her mom and Phil, but if either had heard it they didn't show it. They had both still looked completely lost in each other.

Bella still didn't know for sure if her mother had heard them or not, but the physical fitness routines began the very next day.

While Bella was debating back and forth between chocolate chips or blueberries, her mother came in the back door, panting hard and sweating.

"Mom, chocolate chips or blueberries?"

"Bella! You're... making... pancakes? Oh… that's… won… der… ful."

Her mother was completely soaked with sweat, and when she tried to hug her, Bella screamed and squirmed away from her. "Ewww! Mom! Gross! You're all sweaty! Shower first. Hug second."

Renee grabbed a Vitamin Water from the fridge and was chugging it like she'd been

trapped in the desert for hours.

Bella asked, "Are you supposed to drink that fast after you exercise?"

"I'm so… glad to… see you out of…your room… baby."

Guilt nagged at Bella, but it wasn't enough to puncture her little bubble of happy. "Mom… I'm sorry. I know I've been acting… weird… lately." _Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew! _Her mother was hugging her again, and Bella was cringing. _Ew, now I need another shower, too._

She very badly wanted to push her mother away until she'd showered, but she really did feel guilty. With her anxiety for Edward, Bella knew she'd put her parents and Phil through a lot lately, and she never had come up with any kind of decent excuse.

"Oh, baby. It's OK. You're a teenage girl. We all get moody sometimes." Her mother ruffled her hair. "It was to be expected eventually. I'm just glad it's over. You look like yourself again." Her mother narrowed her eyes and arched her eyebrow. "Actually, you look even better than normal. If I didn't know you'd barely left your room since coming back from your dad's, I'd think there was a boy involved."

At the mention of a boy being involved Bella smiled involuntarily and blushed, but she had already looked away, and her mother didn't notice.

When her mother mentioned being glad it was over, the outside world tried to attack her little bubble of happy again, but it was still not enough to puncture it. _It's not over, but it's only one more week. He's only got one more week to get through, and then the worst of the danger is over. Then, I can relax a little. _"I am sorry, Mom. I don't know what came over me. I thought I'd make pancakes for _after _your shower to make it up to you. Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips?"

Renee didn't answer her,giving her a look that said, "Are you crazy?"

Bella smiled, "Right. Some of each. Now shower." She may have more in common with her father than with her mom, but she and her mom knew each other perfectly.

Phil got back from his early morning workout soon afterward and was both surprised and happy to see Bella out of her room and smiling.

And if he disappeared right after she said her mom was in the shower, Bella was sure he'd just gone back outside to check the air pressure in their tires or something else like that. She told herself that over and over again; it was her story, and she was sticking to it.

After her mom finished her shower, and Phil made sure the tread on the tires wasn't worn down too low, they all had pancakes.

She said, "I thought I'd go to the game today, too. If that's OK?"

Her mom and Phil shared a look and a smile, clearly both glad she was suggesting something that would get her out of her room. In truth, she was nearly desperate to do something, anything, to pass the time until she could reasonably expect to hear back from Edward.

_ Letter writing is too slow. They have electricity in 1918. I wonder if I could send him a cell phone? _

"Of course it's OK, honey."

_ Damn. Won't work. No cell towers. _

Bella took the last bite of her pancake. "Actually, do you know when they have any tours of the stadium? I promised Kenny Ruiz I'd take him to a game and on a tour of the stadium."

Her mother and Phil shared an even bigger smile, and Phil turned his smile on her as her mother put the dishes in the dishwasher. "I'm sure I can arrange something."

"Mommy! Daddy! It was great! I got to sit in the dugout and run around the bases and stand on the mound and throw a ball and see the locker rooms and where they eat and all their weights and where the people that talk on the radio work and they have a HUGE CLOSET WITH A GAZILLION BASEBALLS!"

"A gazillion? That must be a really huge closet."

"It was, Mommy! It was this big!" Kenny had his arms spread out wide to show his mother how big the closet with a gazillion baseballs was. "And look it, look it! They let me keep the ball I threw, and they even signed it!" Kenny opened up his Franklin backpack and proudly pulled out his new most prized possession.

"Wow! Kenny, that's great."

Kenny handed the ball to his dad, and Sonia arched her eyebrow at Bella. "That must've been some special tour."

Bella shrugged her shoulders. "I have connections."

"Kenny, did you thank Miss Bella for taking you?"

Kenny launched himself at Bella and grabbed her around the knees, nearly knocking her over. "Thank you, Miss Belly! Thank you! Thank you!"

Bella took his baseball cap off and ruffled his hair. "You're very welcome, bud."

Kenny's father thanked her again for taking him and took him back in the house. "And we won, Daddy! And I had a hot dog and ice cream and…."

Bella held up her hands in surrender at the arched eyebrow Sonia Ruiz gave her this time. "And a slushie. That's it. A hot dog, a slushie, and an ice cream. Just like you said."

Sonia smiled and nodded her head. "It really was very nice of you to take him, Bella. He absolutely adores you."

"Oh, that's so sweet. I adore him, too."

The smile slowly slid from Sonia's face, and Bella knew she was in for some questions. So far, her mom and Phil hadn't really pushed her as to why she'd practically locked herself in her room for the past several weeks, and she was afraid they'd enlisted her dad as bad cop figuring he'd have the most experience with interrogations, but now she was afraid they'd recruited Sonia.

"Bella, honey, how about we go for a little walk?"

_ Oh! My! God! They actually did make Sonia play bad cop!_ "Um…. Sure?" Bella cast a furtive glance at her house…. She still hadn't come up with any kind of an excuse.

"I don't bite, Bella. Really. Just a walk. I have to pick up some… things… at the drug store on Maffett St.."

"The drug store? OK."

Sonia looked at her and smiled reassuringly, and they walked as far as the corner of their street in silence before Sonia said, "Bella, Carlos and I are very fond of you. I hope you know that."

_ Oh, God. Here it comes._ "I'm… very fond… of the both of you, too."

"You're not just the girl who babysits Kenny. You're our friend. I know how tough high school can be. Girls can be very mean."

Bella "mmhmmm'd" noncommittally.

"And boys can be…" Sonia chuckled, "Well, boys can be dumb as dirt."

That surprised Bella, and she couldn't help but chuckle a little too.

"But… sometimes, girls can be more than just mean, and boys can be much worse than just dumb."

Bella's mind was running a mile a minute, but she still could not come up with a single plausible excuse for suddenly becoming a recluse. She looked everywhere except Sonia, which she realized made her look like she was hiding something. Which, of course, she was.

"Bella, honey, is everything OK at school?"

"School?" _School? They think something's wrong at school?_ That surprised her. School had never even entered her mind, but now she realized she should have known that would be their first assumption. After all, as far as they knew, what else did she have in her life? "No. I mean, yes. Everything's fine. Nothing's wrong."

"You're sure? I know you and your mom are close, and you have great relationship, and that's great, really, but sometimes there are things that a girl might not want to tell her mother."

They had just arrived at the drug store, and Bella followed Sonia without really paying attention to what aisle they were in at first. _OH MY GOD!_ When she saw Sonia take a box of condoms off the rack, Bella felt her face turn bright red, but that was nothing compared to how embarrassed she was when Sonia looked at her as she dropped them in her shopping basket and pointedly told her she could come to her for anything. If the ground had opened up in front of her, Bella would have jumped in the hole.

Sonia picked up a few more things, but Bella had no idea what. She felt like every person in the store was staring at her, and she didn't take her eyes off her feet until they were back out of the store. Sonia took pity on her, and on the walk home they talked about Kenny's tour of the stadium.

But as embarrassed as Bella was, she couldn't help thinking of Edward and wishing she could somehow need those condoms.

When Bella got home, her mother and Phil were deep in a whispered conversation that came to an abrupt halt the moment she walked in the door, and she looked suspiciously between the two of them. "Everything OK?"

"What? Of course, baby. Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Oh…. No reason. So what's up?"

"Nothing's up. Why would anything be up? You talked to your dad? How is he?"

"Dad's fine."

"And Tara? How's Tara?"

"Tanya. She's fine."

Her mother was acting very strangely. She was straightening the cushions on the back of the couch and not looking at her, and Phil was looking all around the room like he was trying desperately to find something to do.

_ OH! MY! GOD!_

Bella suddenly understood that not only had her mother put poor Sonia up to talking to her, but the trip to the drug store had been her idea, too. And worse, Phil knew. She was incredibly embarrassed and felt hurt and betrayed, and she looked at her mother. She must've made some kind of

noise because her mother looked up at her suddenly.

"Now, baby, please. Honey, it's OK. Please don't be upset."

Bella didn't hear anything else her mother said because she ran to her room and slammed her door shut. She leaned against inside of the door and slid down to the ground with her face in her hands. _It's OK? It's very definitely NOT OK! Oh, God. I'm so embarrassed. How am I ever going to face Sonia again? Oh, God. And Phil! How am I ever going to face Phil again? _

Bella wiped her angry tears away and went over to their desk. She wanted to write to Edward. She got out her stationary, but what could she possibly say? _My mother got our neighbor to offer to give me condoms if I needed them. Pity we won't ever need them, isn't it? _

She pushed the piece of stationary away from her and strummed her fingers on the green leather in frustration. Her eyes drifted to the top drawer, and she hesitated for only a moment before opening it. Until her trip to the drug store with Sonya, Bella hadn't been able to think of anything else all day but Edward. She hoped her letter made him even just half as happy as his made her. All day, she'd been checking her watch and telling herself it was too soon; he couldn't possibly have written back yet. With as tired as he was, Bella hoped he had slept several hours. He and his mother were both pushing themselves too hard. And now his young cousin was in the hospital too. Edward was going through so much, but at least the worst was nearly over. Thinking of Edward, her embarrassment and irritation with her mother were forgotten, and a giddy laugh escaped her as she opened the hidden compartment.

But the letter she was hoping for was not the one she found.

_ But… I don't… I don't… understand…. Why is my letter still here? Why didn't he get it? Why is it still here? _Confused, Bella picked up the letter she'd written to Edward earlier that day and looked at it. She looked at the drawer and then back at the letter unable to think of a reason why it was still there. She put her letter back in the hidden compartment and put the drawer back in the desk, waited for a few minutes, and looked again. It was still there. She put it back again, went to sit on her bed, and looked at their desk, frowning in thought. This had never happened before, and she didn't know why it was happening now. Always, her letters to him were gone instantly. Why was this one taking so long?

Slowly, her confusion was beginning to change. It was fading away as a reason was taking shape in her mind against her will. A reason she refused to consider. A reason she'd been terrified of since she first heard the words "Spanish Flu." But the harder she fought to refuse to consider it, the harder it seemed to fight to make itself known.

Bella curled herself up into a ball and rocked back and forth on her bed. "Nono nonono no nono no," she chanted to herself, as if she could drown out her own mind, keep out the unacceptable thoughts.

As hard as she tried to fight it, there were three things she was sure of. Three constants. There was her, there was their desk, and there was Edward. Nothing had happened to her. And nothing had happened to their desk. That left Edward…

_ NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO… NO! It's gone. The letter… it's gone. It has to be gone. He… He… He's…" _Bella crawled, shaking, to the foot of her bed and stood on trembling legs. Unable to take even a single step, she let herself fall forward toward her chair. She looked again, but her letter was still there. A sob caught painfully in her throat, but she refused to let it out. To cry would be to admit…. And she absolutely refused to admit anything.

Bella slammed the drawer shut and paced back and forth in her room in a near panic. So many thoughts were racing through her mind at once that none of them made sense. Mumbling to herself, desperate to think of some other reason, Bella sat down rigidly on the edge of her bed with her hands fisted so tightly she could feel her fingernails digging in to her palms But the more she tried to think of some other reason, the more the words of Edward's last letter and the words of every web site she'd read about the Spanish Flu were gaining ground, until finally, she could think of nothing else.

_I was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of little Charlie coughing terribly..._

_...burning up with fever..._

_He was perfectly well only a few hours earlier..._

...struck so suddenly and severely that many of its victims died within hours of coming down with their first symptom…

...overwhelmed the victims and incapacitated especially the young and vigorous in a few hours…

...it is simply a struggle for air until they suffocate…

_...every bed is filled, and I had no choice but to spend the night in a metal chair next to his father's bed holding him on my lap..._

...an extremely high infection rate...

...highly contagious…

…easily spread by coughs…

...infection rate of up to 50%...

_...I am so dreadfully tired, and I ache terribly..._

...first symptoms of extreme fatigue...

...backache...

...pain and soreness...

…feeling very tired…

...fevers that could reach 105 degrees…

...the sick fell prey to wild bouts of delirium…

…rapid breathing, a kind of "air hunger" …

...patients would cough with such force that some even tore their abdominal muscles…

...others became incontinent…

...foamy blood exited from their mouths and noses…

...some bled from their ears…

...blood pouring from the nose and possibly their ears…

...killed millions of young adults in the prime of their lives…

...extremely high fevers and nosebleeds before the lungs filled with blood and faces turned blue…

...caused the lungs to fill with fluid so fast that the patient literally would drown in their own body fluids…

...death came with blood-tinged sputum from mouth and nostrils…

...they suffocate…

...purple cyanosis, a mark of a patient who is being suffocated to death by a buildup of fluid in his lungs…

...only a matter of hours then until death comes…

...mostly killed young adults…

…uncontrollable hemorrhaging that filled the lungs, and patients would drown in their own body fluids…

…struggle for air until they suffocate…

…mostly killed young adults…

…until they suffocate…

…mostly killed young adults…

…air hunger…

…incapacitated…

…a struggle for air…

…until they suffocate…

…until they suffocate…

…until he suffocates…

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"STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"Bella shouted.

"Bella? Baby? Please, honey, let me in. Baby, I'm sorry."

"Mom?" Bella had curled up into a ball with her arms wrapped around her head, desperately trying to block out her own thoughts, but it was hopeless. She couldn't stop the unbearable, relentless barrage of her own thoughts, but her mother's voice had cut through it. She picked her pounding head up off her mattress and blinked, trying to focus through her tears. She had no idea how long she'd been in her room or what time it was. All she knew was that Edward had gotten sick. The moment she admitted that to herself, she practically flew off her bed and out her door to her mother.

"Bella? Baby, what is it? Honey, what's wrong?"

"Bella? What's wrong? Please, tell us what's wrong."

Bella could hear the fear in her mother's and Phil's voices, but she couldn't answer them. All she could do was cling to her mother like a scared child and cry. She was crying so hard she couldn't catch her breath, and she started to feel sick.

"Baby, you're scaring me, please tell me what's wrong."

Her head was throbbing, and her legs felt weak. Bella knew she was becoming hysterical, and she felt like she might hyperventilate. Her heart was pounding painfully hard, each beat felt like a dagger stabbing into her chest. Her mother's and Phil's voices were becoming more and more panicked. Her mother sounded nearly frantic. Bella was sobbing, coughing and gagging, and she could not stop. The stabbing pain in her chest was becoming a burning agony she could barely inhale around. She was feeling sicker and sicker by the second and finally tore herself away from her mother and ran into the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. She just made it to the toilet before everything she'd eaten all day came back up.

She could hear her mother crying and Phil begging her to tell them what was wrong, but they sounded all wrong, distorted somehow. Someone was pressing a glass of water to her lips, and she automatically took a sip but gagged and retched again.

Bella was still on her hands and knees, and she tried to crawl away when she heard the toilet flush.

Her mother's and Phil's voices were becoming so distorted she could barely recognize them. The room was spinning, and her arms and legs felt like rubber bands. Her hair had fallen into her face, and there was a strand of hair in her mouth which was making her want to gag again. She tried to push it away, but her arms were so weak that when she lifted one trembling arm, the other gave out, and she collapsed to the ground. The room was as distorted as her mother's and Phil's voices. It was growing dimmer and quieter until there was nothing but black, and she could hear nothing except her own thoughts.

Her last thought was that she would be glad when the black took them, too. It wouldn't hurt anymore.

"…should we do…"

"If she doesn't… …911."

"Bella?"

"Wake up…"

"…I think..."

"…please, baby..."

Bella was trying to sleep, but voices were disturbing her. Someone was trying to wake her up, but she wanted to sleep. She wanted the voices to go away and leave her alone. She didn't want to wake up. She was absolutely certain she didn't want to wake up, but she didn't know why. The voices didn't seem to care what she wanted, though. They were getting louder and more insistent. Finally, Bella rationalized that maybe if she woke up for a little while, the voices would go away and leave her alone. Then she could sleep again.

Very reluctantly she opened one eye, but the room was too bright, and it hurt. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to bury her face in her pillow.

"Bella!"

Too loud. Much too loud. It was much too loud and much too bright, and she whimpered and tried to cover her eyes and ears.

"Bella, baby, open your eyes. Please, baby. Open your eyes."

"Too bright."

"What?"

Bella heard a soft click, and the room darkened.

"There. I turned the light off. Is that better?"

_ A man's voice. Deep, caring. Phil's voice. And my mom. But why do they sound so upset? What happened? _

Slowly she opened one eye, then the other. She sat up and looked around her room in confusion unable to think of what they could sound so scared over. Her mother and Phil were looking at her like they'd seen a ghost. Her mother was so white, she almost looked like a ghost herself. "Mom? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? Bella…. Baby, you… you had… some kind of… of a breakdown… or fit… or something."

Her mother couldn't speak anymore. She started crying and pulled Bella tightly into her arms.

It was Phil who spoke next, and his voice was shaking. He sounded like he'd been through a war. "Bella, what just happened?"

She was confused. Nothing had happened. She hadn't had any kind of a breakdown or anything. Yeah, she was upset with her mom over the condom incident, but she didn't have a _breakdown _over it. "Nothing's wrong."

Her mother held her upper arms tightly and held her just far enough away from her to look in her eyes. "Isabella Marie Swan. Don't give me that 'Nothing's wrong.' I've had it with 'Nothing's wrong.' You were hysterical, you threw up, and you fainted. Something is wrong."

_ Fainted? What is she talking about? I didn't faint. Why are they looking at me like that?_

Bella looked back and forth between her mother and Phil, and when Phil leaned against their desk, her eyes were automatically drawn to the drawer with the hidden compartment. She couldn't help but smile.

_ He loves me, too._

A moment after she thought of Edward, she remembered everything, and it felt like her insides turned to stone. The smile fell from her face, and she had to swallow several times to keep from being sick again. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to curl up into a ball and never get up. She wanted her mother and Phil to go away and leave her alone. "I think…. I don't know what happened. I had a nightmare I think. I don't remember it. I still feel really sick. I think… I think something I ate at the game made me sick. I'm just really tired."

Her mother tucked her hair behind her ears and ran her finger tips down the side of her face before sighing in frustration, shaking her head, and looking away. "I wish you would talk to me, baby. You used to talk to me." Her mother clearly wasn't the least bit convinced but didn't push her. "Get some sleep, honey. We'll talk tomorrow."

Once her mother and Phil had left her alone she curled up in her bed and cried quietly until she fell asleep.

- . - . - . - . -

"_Bella_."

"Edward?"

_ "Bella_… _help me_._" _

"Edward!"

Bella ran as fast as she could, trying to follow the sound of Edward's voice, but every time she turned down a hallway, his voice seemed to come from a different direction. She was in a hospital, but it was not like any hospital she had ever been in before. There were people everywhere, all dressed in clothes from another century. They were in her way and didn't seem to see her running past them. They were slowing her down when she needed to get to Edward. She needed to find him. He was sick, and she had the medicine he needed. She had to get it to him, but she couldn't find him.

_ "Bella… help me." _

"Edward! I'm coming, love. I love you, Edward! Hold on! Please, hold on!"

His voice was getting weaker and sounded farther and farther away. Bella tried to run faster, but the crowd around her was getting thicker, and she couldn't get past them. She needed to find him and give him the medicine he needed. If she could just get it to him, he would be OK. If she could just get to him….

Another hallway, and his voice came from yet another direction. The crowd around her was now so thick they were pressed up against her, and she had to squeeze and push and shove to get past them.

_ "Bella… I love you." _

"Edward! Hold on! Don't give up! I love you, too, Edward! I'm coming! Just, please, hold on!" She was sobbing as she ran, and she tripped and fell. When she looked up she was alone in the hallway with just two other people. A man and woman sat crying and holding a small wooden box with the word "macaroni" written across it. The man looked up and looked right at her as the woman continued to cry on his shoulder.

Bella pushed herself up slowly; for some reason she was even more scared now that the rest of the crowd was suddenly gone. "Can you see me? I'm trying to find my friend. I have to find him. I have… something… for him. I have to give it to him."

The man's eyes lowered. He was looking down at the small wooden box on his lap as he shook his head slowly. Without looking back up at her he spoke, and the overwhelming pain in his voice nearly drove Bella back to her knees. "We couldn't save him. We tried. We tried everything. Our little boy. We couldn't save him."

The woman's crying got louder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… but my friend... I have to find him."

Bella realized she couldn't hear Edward's voice anymore at the same moment the man looked up at her.

He said, "There was nothing we could do. We couldn't save him. We couldn't save him, and neither could you."

The woman screamed.

- . - . - . - . -

"Bella! Bella! Wake up!"

Bella awoke screaming and leaned over the side of her bed dry heaving. Phil was in the doorway and quickly grabbed her waste paper basked and handed it to her mother, who was kneeling next to her bed, but there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. As she tried to catch her breath, she realized it hadn't been the woman in her dream who had been crying and screaming. It'd been her. She couldn't make herself look at her mother or Phil. "I'm sorry I woke you. It was just another nightmare."

She could hear the growing concern and frustration in her mother's voice, her pleas for Bella to talk to her, to tell her what was wrong, but after her nightmare her fear for Edward had intensified until it was a physical pain so severe she couldn't move or speak. Eventually, they gave up and returned to their own room, and Bella was alone again. She didn't sleep again that night.

The next day the paralyzing fear had changed into such an acute anxiety that she was unable to sit still. Her mind was racing, her heart was racing, and her body refused to be still. If she stood, she paced. If she sat, her hands twisted frantically in her lap. But as restless as her body was, her mind absolutely focused. The statistics she had read kept replaying in her mind. The hardest hit were the young and healthy, the strong, the people in the prime of their lives.

In other words, people exactly like Edward.

Sitting on the edge of her bed and rocking back and forth, Bella wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a subconscious effort to keep herself from falling to pieces. The one thing she kept forcing herself to remember was that as dire as the numbers of those killed were, the vast majority of those who got sick recovered. Joe got better, Anna and Lillian both got better. Edward would get better, too. He had to.

Most web sites she'd seen agreed that a little over a quarter of the population of the United States got sick. The population at the time was about 100,000,000, and 25,000,000 got sick. Out of those who got sick, about 675,000 died. It was natural to focus on the number of deaths rather than the number of survivors, but out of those who got sick, less than 3% died. More than 97% got better. Bella kept repeating those numbers in her head, and rationally, she knew the odds were strongly in Edwards favor.

However, she also knew that her letter was still in the drawer.

Even though focusing on the number of survivors encouraged her, she knew he was going to suffer terribly, and she was desperate to know what was happening. She knew the hospital was over crowded, Edward had told her so himself several times. Did he at least have a bed? Or was he lying on a cold, dirty floor somewhere? Was he in pain? How bad was his fever? How long would he suffer before he got better? Did they even have any medicine left to give him, or were they facing shortages?

That was one thing he'd never mentioned, and she'd never asked. He told her they used morphine, but even if it was just plain aspirin, it had to be better than nothing.

She had read that nursing was vital to recovery. The staff at the hospital was stretched so thin, and by now they had to be ready to drop from exhaustion. Was there anyone to take care of him? Was she sitting here doing nothing while Edward suffered with no one to take care of him?

Remembering the girl Edward had told her about, Bianca, who died covered in her own blood because there had been no one to clean her, Bella's empty stomach threatened to revolt again. One advantage she hoped he had was that he had at least one doctor on staff who was a close friend of theirs, and hopefully after all the time he and his mother had spent volunteering at the hospital they had several others. It might be wrong, but if you had several people who all needed your help, and one of them was a friend, someone you cared about, and the others were strangers, it was only human nature to help your friend first. It wasn't right, but it was true, and it gave her some comfort. She didn't care about what was right or wrong or what was fair right now; she only cared about what would help Edward.

Bella scrubbed her hands over her face and tugged at her hair in frustration. Not knowing what was going on was making her crazy, but she had no way of finding anything out until he got better and wrote to her again. And she had no way of knowing how long that would be.

She took a deep breath and got up to check if her letter was still there again. It was.

She sat down heavily at their desk and put her head in her hands fighting back tears. Even after Edward was well again, who knew how long it would be before he was strong enough to write?

Desperate to hold onto him as tightly as she could she got his letters back out to read again, but froze when she felt a small slip of paper with them. Michael Masen's phone number. She had Michael Masen's phone number, and she had forgotten. Time seemed to slow down as she held up the slip of paper she had written his number on two months ago. He would know. Constantly reminding herself how many people recovered was helping, but hearing Michael tell her absolutely that Edward would be fine…. The relief, she couldn't even imagine what the relief would be like.

She was terrified to make the call, but she had no choice. Bella took a moment to try to calm herself before dialing the number on her cell phone with a trembling hand. Her stomach was in knots, and her heart was pounding as the phone rang. After what seemed like forever, but was really only three rings, he picked up. "Hello?"

Bella opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't make a sound.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Masen?" There. Her voice cracked, but she got the words out that time.

"This is Michael Masen. Who is this?"

She couldn't do this. Her throat felt like it was closing up, and all she could do was sob.

"Hello? Who is this?"

Bella wiped angrily at her tears and took a deep breath. She had to do this. She had to know Edward would be OK. "Mr. Masen?"

"Yes, this is Michael Masen."

"Mr. Masen… this… this is… Bella Swan."

"Bella Swan! Everyone! It's Bella Swan!"

Bella heard what had to be at least a dozen voices, all talking over each other, all excitedly repeating her name.

"Bella, you have no idea how glad we all are to hear from you. We've all been hoping you'd call. How are you? Tell me, we're dying to know, find anything interesting in the desk?"

Someone took the phone from him and a woman's voice spoke next. "Bella, Hi! This is Susan, Mic's sister. I can't believe it's really you! I really thought Mic was making it up!"

Another person. "Hey, Bella! This is Rich, I'm Mic's brother."

Then another. "Bella! Hi! I'm Jenny, Rich's wife."

What were they doing, passing the phone around?

"Bella? I'm Andrew, Sue's husband. This is incredible. I didn't believe it when they told me the stories."

"Bella? You're really Bella Swan? I can't believe it, this is so cool! I'm Lexi. I remember Pop telling me about you. He said his father and aunt and uncle _swore _the story was true, but I never believed it. I couldn't _believe it _when Uncle Mic said he'd _actually met you_. It's just so _romantic_!"

How many of them were there? She could still hear others in the background shouting to her and laughing. It was overwhelming.

"Alright, alright, everyone. Let let the poor girl get a word in edgewise will you?"

Thank God, Michael must've gotten his phone back. They all sounded so _happy. _Too happy. It was more than she could take.

"Sorry about that. You'll have to forgive us. We're a bit excited, if you couldn't tell. You happened to catch us when we were all together. Lucky you. My niece, Hannah, had her last T-ball game today, and we're having a cook out."

Bella heard a little girl shout to her. "My team won, and I scored a run, Bella!"

"Yes, you did, Hannah. You're our little Louis Street Slugger, right?"

_ This is Edward's family. These people… they're his family._

Bella couldn't help feeling comforted just hearing their voices and by the knowledge that his family was still close, and that they were happy. Whether they were his grandchildren and great grandchildren or cousins generations removed, he'd be glad to hear that. Edward had asked her if she knew anything about them, and now she could find out all about them for him. Thinking about what he had told her about girls already beginning to play sports in his time and how much he loved baseball, Bella knew he'd get a kick out of a little girl, maybe his great-granddaughter, playing T-ball. He'd probably send her pointers to pass on to her. Maybe, maybe they would even send her a family picture she could give to him. He'd like that, she was sure. Just as soon as Michael told her he'd be fine, she could find out all about them for him. Just as soon as she could make herself ask the question.

"Bella? You still there? We didn't scare you off did we?"

"No… no…. I'm… I'm still here."

"Hey, what's wrong? Did you find the hidden compartment? I thought you'd be excited."

Bella tried to speak but couldn't.

There was a pause before Michael spoke again. "Bella?"

"The flu… he…." She could barely hear her own voice, but it was all she could manage. She could hear Michael draw a surprised breath, but it was a few moments before he spoke again.

"Oh." There was another pause. Pauses were bad. Pauses were very bad. People never paused before telling you good news. "I didn't… I didn't realize…. It's only been a few months, I didn't realize it would happen so soon. You must've found Edward's letter to Uncle Mic almost that same day."

_ Edward…. Not Grandfather. Edward. Uncle Mic. Tommy was his grandfather. Not Edward. Tommy. Oh, God, no. Please, no._

Another pause. Bella's heart was pounding so hard she could feel her pulse in her fingertips.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. Please know, my grandfather and Aunt Laura both said Edward loved you very much."

Bella felt like her heart throbbed once, hard, and then stopped before it broke into hundreds of razor sharp shards and fell to her feet, cutting her into ribbons as they fell. Edward wasn't going to get better. Edward hadn't gotten better. He hadn't been the 97%. He'd been in the 3%. He wasn't going to visit his cousins in New York City next summer. He wasn't going to go to the University of Illinois next year. He wasn't even ever going to graduate high school. He wasn't going to be a groomsman at Clara's wedding. He wasn't going to take little Charlie to a baseball game next summer. He wasn't going to pick a medical school. He wasn't going to become a doctor, or get married, or have children. He wasn't ever going to write to her again.

He wasn't ever going to know how much she loved him.

Bella waited for the tears to come, but they never did. She couldn't feel anything. After the initial searing pain, she'd gone completely numb.

She could hear Michael's voice, but she had no idea what he was saying, and she forced herself to pay attention. This was Edward's cousin. Generations removed, yes, but this was all of him that was left. She had to hear what he was saying.

"My grandfather and his brother and sister tried to write to you for months, but it never worked. Once Edward… was gone, whatever made it possible was gone, too." There was a pause, but she was unable to speak, and after a moment he continued. "He was very handsome. They saved some pictures of him for you, and the letters they tried to send you, but… I'm so sorry, Bella, they were lost in a house fire in the early 80's. My grandmother said he had bronze hair and green eyes. She said he was her first love when she was a young girl." He paused for a moment again before telling her again that Edward had loved her, and how sorry they all were.

Bella nodded her head and forced herself to speak past the suffocating tightness in her throat. "I loved him, too."

She closed her eyes and hung up her phone, letting it slip from her fingers and fall to the floor, before crawling into her bed and pulling the covers over herself.

She didn't care if she ever got up again.

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There you have it. Bella's reaction to Edward's (supposed) death. You will meet vampire Edward very soon. I've had several reviewers comment on how Bella will react when Edward's letters stop coming, but I don't remember anyone (if I've forgotten, I apologize.) asking about her letters no longer being sent, which is what happened. The way I see it, it's not some celestial intervention that's allowing them to communicate, it's their bond itself, its they themselves who are doing it. Their bond is so strong, it defies time itself. They exist, so their bond exists, even if they haven't met up yet. They are fated or destined for each other or whatever you want to call it. As soon as there was any kind of physical connection between them, i.e. the desk, their bond was able to latch onto it and form a link between them. The magic was never in the desk, it was in their bond, which used the desk as a sort of mailbox.

On another personal note (I have no idea if posting something like this is allowed - if it's not I'm sorry, and I'll take it down) the son of a friend of mine is very seriously ill. David Johnson is 12 years old and will undergo a Total Pancreatectomy and Islet Auto-Transplant (TP-IAT) on July 26th. The family drove from Pennsylvania to Minnesota for the surgery and will have to stay there for several weeks. A face book group, Hope For David 2012, was created to show support for the family. They are trying to get as many "likes" as possible to show David that people are routing for him. Please remember David and his family on the 26th and go hit that little LIKE button!


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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I'm sorry about the late update! I tried all weekend to get this chapter up, but I kept getting connection errors.

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Thank you all so much for all your well wishes for my new grandson and to everyone who's sent prayers and thoughts out to my friend's son. David is only days away from surgery. So far, they've got over 1000 likes on their face book group page! If you haven't already, please check out the page, face book hope for david 2012, and hit that little like button. David was hoping to get to 1000 likes before his surgery on the 26th, and when I just looked it was at 1023! Lets see how high we can get it! If you haven't already, please, please, please go hit that little like button! Team HOPE!

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I'm sorry I wasn't able to respond to reviews this week. I've been too busy making silly faces and saying things like, "whoshdawiddwebabyaby" and "whoshdabeshteshtboyevew" but I did read them all and I thank you all very much for taking the time to review. I'm also trying to write a Harry Potter fic for a fest that has a deadline of the end of August, which I'm completely freaking out over. It was so much easier writing this. I don't think I do well with deadlines - its making me crazy! (And trust me, I had a pretty good running start on crazy!) So if I don't get back to a review, please know why and and be assured I did read it and appreciate it very much. Hopefully, once I get this other fic done, I will have more time to respond to reviews.

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_June 27, 2009_... Bella? Baby? Honey… please. Why don't you get up and get dressed? Please. We could go to the movies. Or out to eat. Anything you want. Please….

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_July 4, 2009_...Honey…. Bella, please. It's the 4th of July. Don't you want to go to the fireworks? You love the fireworks….

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_July 12, 2009_... Look, Bella. Kenny drew you a picture. You and him together at the park. Look, baby. You're pushing him on the swings. He misses you, honey….

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_July 18, 2009_... Renee shut her daughter's bedroom door and buried her face in her hands crying, "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. She won't talk. She won't get up. She barely eats. All she does…. For four weeks…. All she's done for _four weeks_ is sleep. Sleep and just stare straight ahead. I don't know what to do, and I'm scared."

Phil held her while she cried, wishing there was something he could do, something he could say. He was completely out of his depth, and he hated how powerless he felt. He wasn't someone who handled not being able to do anything very well.

The phone rang, and he wiped her tears and kissed her forehead before slowly letting go of her to answer it. The machine picked up before he got there and Charlie's voice was on the speaker. "Renee? It's Charlie."

"Charlie, it's Phil. No change."

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.oOo. .oOo.

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Charlie swore under his breath. The two men talked briefly, but there was really nothing to say that hadn't been said over and over already. Yes, Bella was still in bed. No, she still wouldn't talk. No, she still wouldn't even make eye contact with them. Yes, she was still only barely eating anything. And, no, no one had any idea why.

It was like someone had flipped a switch and turned her off.

She'd been different since Easter, moody, which was very unlike her. She'd kept herself locked in her room and had spent every possible moment obsessively studying, of all things, a forgotten epidemic from a hundred years ago like it was a matter of life and death. Then one day, she'd seemed to snap out of it and had been more like herself, but that had just been the eye of the storm. That night she'd had some kind of a breakdown, and the next day she stayed in bed. That was nearly four weeks ago, and she hadn't been out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time, hadn't spoken more than a word or two at a time since.

He'd been over and over the past several months and her visit to Forks in detail with Renee. Nothing had happened that would seem likely to lead to anything like this. Yeah, Billy's kids admitted they'd argued, but not to any kind of extent that would explain why she was like this. And besides, that was two months ago.

Renee had spoken to the school district. They were out for the summer, but the administration building was open. There was no record of any kind of incident at school. She'd even looked up her teachers' home numbers and had called them all. They were surprised and concerned. Bella's grades had not been what they usually were the last few weeks of school, and her final exams were well below normal, but they hadn't been bad enough to raise any alarm. They'd all agreed that she'd seemed distracted at times, but nothing that had given them any cause for real concern. Her biology teacher did say she'd talked to her about her lack of attention once, but that was months ago. Bella had assured her everything was fine, and she had not had any problem after that.

They'd been through all of this dozens of times now.

Charlie hung up the phone and remained still for a moment before suddenly slamming his fist against the wall. Slowly, he turned and looked at Tanya; he quietly nodded his head. She came right over to him and wrapped her arms around him.

Never in a million years would he understand why she had picked him, but she had. Tanya was, without a doubt, the most indescribably beautiful woman he had even seen in his life, but she was even more amazing as a person than she was beautiful. The December day she'd walked into the police station with Esme Cullen carrying a large tray of Christmas cookies was the day the sun had come out for the first time in fourteen years. She had completely taken his breath away.

He was embarrassed now to remember how absolutely speechless he had been when she'd smiled at him that day. For two months afterward he'd thought about her. Then, in February, she'd moved down from Alaska to stay with her cousins and had come into the station again, alone this time, and had asked him out. He'd almost said no. He'd intended to say no. When he'd heard the word "yes," he'd looked behind himself, thinking she had been talking to someone behind him. It had come as a surprise when there had been no one there, and he'd realized the voice was his own.

At first, he'd been constantly afraid she would see how plainly average and mediocre he was and would come to her senses and walk away from him. Just like Renee had. But Tanya wasn't Renee.

When Renee had left and taken Bella, he had been utterly broken. Shattered, he'd thought, beyond repair. And so he had been, until Tanya for some inexplicable reason had chosen him and made him whole again. In very little time, really, she had entered his life and had become, next to Bella, his life.

Charlie held Tanya to him tightly and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. She didn't speak. She gave him time to gather his thoughts.

In time, he said, "I think maybe Carlisle is right."

He heard and felt her sigh against his chest before she looked up at him with her warm butterscotch eyes. "Charlie, love, please don't think of it as a bad thing. You're not shutting her away somewhere. _She needs help_. Remember what Carlisle said; if something was physically wrong, if she got sick or hurt, you wouldn't hesitate for a moment before taking her straight to the hospital. This is absolutely the same thing. She just needs more help than her family can give her at home."

Charlie was quiet for a moment, telling himself everything she said made perfect sense. If his little girl broke her leg, they wouldn't try to set it themselves. If she got cancer, they wouldn't try to treat her themselves. They would take her to someone who knew what they were doing. Just because she would be in a hospital for a little while didn't mean they couldn't be with her. They would never just leave her there. Why, then, did it feel like that was exactly what he was doing? He couldn't shake the image of his baby girl lying in a cold, bland room curled up into a ball looking up at him with terrified eyes and begging him to not leave her there.

He ran his fingers slowly through Tanya's strawberry blonde hair. "Is he home? Can we talk to him? I'll talk to Renee tonight, but I want to talk to him first."

Tanya knew it was very difficult for Charlie, trying to deal long distance with whatever was happening to his daughter. To someone who didn't know him as well as she did, he would hardly seem disturbed. Charlie didn't let his emotions show. But she could see the telltale signs that others could not. That is, that humans could not. She could see the barely perceptible increase in the lines around his eyes and in his forehead and the minute change in his posture. She could hear the subtle difference in his voice and his breathing, the slight increase in his pulse. She could detect the additional second or two increase in the time it would take him to respond to someone or something.

.

.oOo. .oOo.

.

Tanya was a vampire who had finally, after nearly a thousand years, found her mate. And right now her mate was hurting and scared.

Even if, as a vampire, she didn't have a perfect memory, she would never be able to forget the moment she first saw Charlie. Her 'cousins'–as they liked to think of each other–the Cullens, were the only other family of vegetarian vampires aside from her own and they interacted with the community of humans they lived among much more than her own coven did, working and attending school with them. They even kept to the human tradition of using a last name.

When she and her family had been down visiting them in December, Esme Cullen had made trays of Christmas cookies to be given to the humans. Carlisle took a tray into the hospital where he worked. As a vegetarian vampire who also happened to be a surgeon, Carlisle Cullen, the head of the Cullen family, was unique even amongst their small group that was unique already.

A vampire surgeon devoted to healing and saving human lives–if ever there was a greater oxymoron, she'd never heard it.

Esme had wanted to take the other trays of cookies into the fire department and police station. Tanya had gone with her, and had met Police Chief Charlie Swan.

In one moment, her world had changed forever. After nearly one thousand years, she knew in that one moment that she had finally found her mate.

Unfortunately, her mate was still human.

At first, her only thought had been to lure him away and change him right then and there, but she wasn't some rash, impulsive newborn. She knew it wasn't that easy. To start with, Esme and she would be known to have been two of the last people to see him, and as Chief of Police, even of such a small town as Forks, every cop in the state would be aware of his disappearance. The investigation would bring too much attention to them. Too much attention from the humans meant too much attention from the Volturi, and attention from the Volturi was to be avoided at all costs. There could be absolutely nothing to lead back to any of them.

Another and equal, if not greater, consideration was Charlie himself. Every vampire's most vivid memory was their change, the excruciating, indescribable burning torture, and she knew from others that watching your mate suffer during their change was as bad, if not worse, than suffering through your own.

Even with as much as she hated having to lie to him, to keep him in the dark about the truth about herself, and as badly as she wanted to not have to be 100% on her guard every second, to not have to be constantly worried, constantly afraid of something happening to him or of accidentally hurting him herself, she was not sure she could sit next to him and watch him go through that. And there was no way in hell she would let him go through it without her.

Also, she's found out from Esme that he had a daughter, whom he loved very much.

Like Carlisle, Tanya was the head of her family, but unlike Carlisle, she hadn't always been. Just as Carlisle was the father of his family, her family had once had a mother, and her sisters and she still felt the terrible pain of their mother's loss even now, centuries later. She could never be the reason Charlie and his daughter were separated.

There were even more problems to her changing him. His best friends were werewolves, although he didn't know this anymore than he knew she was a vampire. The wolves were a problem because of the pesky little matter of a treaty the Cullens had made with them decades ago. The Cullens would not bite a human, and the werewolves would not expose them as vampires. Additionally, the Cullens were forbidden to set foot on their land. If either side broke these agreements, the other could attack. By extension, due to their relationship with the Cullens, her family was included in the treaty as well.

The treaty had, up until now, meant no more to any of them than maintaining the peace with the small, local tribe of Native Americans who possessed the special gene that allowed them to transform into enormous wolves. They didn't need the tribe's land to hunt on, and they didn't feed from humans because they chose not to. The treaty had nothing to do with it. They had been feeding only from animals long before the Cullens encountered the wolves.

Now, however, it posed a major problem. The treaty forbade them from biting a human–not killing, _biting._ Changing Charlie would mean an all-out war with the wolves and attracting the attention of the Volturi.

No, for the time being at least, Charlie had to stay human and unaware for all their sakes.

.

.oOo. .oOo.

.

Emmett was fidgety. He picked up a magazine and flipped through it without really looking at it. His eyes kept flicking back to his brother and sister, trying to find some clue in their faces. Annoyed, he tossed the magazine aside. "Do you two have any idea how creepy it is when you do that?"

"Then don't watch."

"Seriously, it freaks me out."

"Then don't watch."

"You've been at it all afternoon."

Alice and Edward smirked at each other but didn't say anything. Annoying Emmett was part of the fun when they played chess their way. To anyone who didn't know them, it would look like they were sitting on the back deck of their family's home facing each other, not moving, not even blinking.

"You could at least set the boards up."

Rosalie's voice came floating to them from the garage where she was working on her newest toy. "You know they like to get you riled up, Emmett. Just ignore them."

Emmett lived for games. Any kind. Sports were his favorite, but any kind of game or competition would do. "But, how am I supposed to know who's winning if they don't use the damn boards?"

Alice's and Edward's smirks grew.

Upstairs in his office, Carlisle was seated at his desk reviewing patient files and listening to his children's antics. His wife was lying on a couch across the room, thumbing through some plans for a century old farmhouse she had found to restore. He shook his head, grinning.

Once, he would never have even dared to dream he would be surrounded by a large, loving family. He had believed he would be alone forever, but the centuries of absolute isolation and loneliness were nothing but a distant memory now.

Just as he was closing a file, he heard Alice inhale sharply, and after he and his wife shared a brief glance, he called down to her. "Alice, what is it?"

"Charlie's decided. He wants to talk to you. Tanya's bringing him here. They'll be here in twenty three minutes."

Down on the deck, Edward felt the same unexplainable sense of recognition he always did when he thought about Tanya's new human mate. There was something about Charlie Swan that reminded him of something, something he knew was important, something intrinsically a part of himself.

Something that for the life of him he could not remember no matter how hard he tried, which was absurd since, although his memories of his human life were lost to the illness that had ended that life, Edward remembered every single second of his ninety years, eight months, and eighteen days as a vampire perfectly.

His brother, Jasper, came outside and stood next to Alice. Without looking at them or saying a word, Edward darted into the woods behind their house, knowing they would give him some time to himself before following. He ran through the trees so fast that to a human he would not have been visible as even a blur.

In seconds, he was far enough from his family's home to have his mind to himself, and he scaled the tallest tree nearby and sat on a branch. He closed his eyes and leaned against the trunk with his arms resting on his knees. The quiet was something Edward treasured above anything else because he so could rarely enjoy it.

The quiet was precious to him, but it was also lonely. The thing he wished for more than anything was that he could enjoy the silence he treasured so dearly with someone else, but he never could. The moment someone joined him or even passed nearby, the silence was gone.

Too soon, he heard his brother and sister approach, and just like that the spell was broken. The silence was gone.

_ Edward?_

He didn't answer, nor did they expect him to. They knew exactly where he was, and in seconds they were perched on a nearby branch.

_ Emmett and Rose went hunting. It's better if it's just Carlisle and Esme are there when Charlie and Tanya arrive. Parent to parents._

Edward nodded his head to show that he agreed, but he didn't speak. He was watching a beetle scurry away from him as fast as it could. Nothing living wanted to be near them.

Without looking up, he asked his sister, "Will it help?"

Even though she knew today's psychiatric hospitals bore no resemblance to the asylums of a hundred years ago, Edward knew Alice still had issues left over from her human life when her father had had her committed to one of those asylums after her mother's death. It was there she'd spent the last years of her human life alone, scared, and locked in a dark room. He couldn't suppress a flinch as vague, foggy human memories surfaced in her mind of enduring "treatments" that ranged from being deliberately infected with malaria to produce an intense fever and possibly even unconsciousness and convulsions–all with the expectation that when her body recovered, her mind would as well–to being wrapped in towels soaked in ice water, or submerged in cold water for hours at a time, or being strapped down and blasted with cold water from what almost appeared in her memories to be a fire hose.

Jasper felt the pain of his wife's momentary flash of nightmarish memories, and Edward soon felt a wave of overwhelming, pure, and absolutely unconditional love.

"If you two would rather be alone, I can leave." He was only partly joking. It could be very difficult being the only single one in a family of perfectly matched and mated couples.

It was Jasper who spoke first. "You seem to be taking a special interest in the girl."

"Well, she's Tanya's mate's daughter. She's… family… sort of."

"Mmm hmmm."

"And… I still feel… badly..."

"And what might you be feeling bad for?"

Edward rolled his eyes and looked away. His infuriating sister was going to make him say it. Again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he knew from Carlisle he also did as a human if something frustrated him.

"You know how I reacted to her scent, Alice You know what I would've done had she been there."

Alice gracefully leapt to his branch and knelt in front of him, squeezing his hands in her tiny ones. "That was a perfectly natural reaction to suddenly encountering the scent of your singer, which I might add, you resisted."

No matter how many times his family assured him his reaction to the girl's scent was beyond his control, Edward was still so ashamed of his reaction to the scent of Charlie's daughter on the clothes Alice had bought for her to "borrow" that he couldn't look at her.

"Edward. She's your singer. It wasn't your fault. It was a perfectly natural reaction."

"Yes, I'm sure that would've been consolation to the girl for having her throat ripped out." With his eyes focused on a random leaf on a tree about forty yards away, he continued in a barely audible whisper, "You don't understand. I only managed to resist taking off to find her because her scent was only on a couple pieces of clothes she only wore for a few days, and it was several hours old. You have no idea…. I wanted her blood so badly…. Everything else ceased to matter. It hurt…. The bloodlust…. You can't imagine…. It was almost like burning all over." Just the memory of that scent was enough to set his throat on fire, and when he spoke again his voice was quieter still. "If she had been there in person…. If we hadn't gone away to Alaska…. I would've…. None of you would've been able to stop me in time. I would've gone through any of you to get to her if I had to. _Nothing _else would've mattered. Just getting to that scent... I would've killed her. And probably Charlie, too. And then Tanya would've come after me…. I would've destroyed everything. Our family... I would've destroyed all of us… without a second thought... just to have her."

"Edward, please don't be so hard on yourself."

Edward jumped up, angry. "Hard on myself? You think I'm being too hard on myself? Alice, I wanted to kill her. How am I supposed to face Tanya?"

"Tanya understands. You're not perfect and no one expects you to be except you. It didn't happen. We did go to Alaska, and it didn't happen. If there had been _any_ possibility of your meeting her, I would've seen what would've happened. It doesn't do any more good for you to dwell on 'what if's' than it does when Rosalie does it."

Jasper agreed. "I don't have to imagine it, Edward. I felt every second of your bloodlust. I also felt how hard you fought against it. You held your breath and ran away to get away from the scent. I've never known a vampire with enough control to not give in to what you were feeling. I doubt even Carlisle could've done it. It was exceptional."

Desperate to not talk about it anymore, Edward tried to return to his unanswered question. "This hospital, it's good, right? They'll be able to help her?"

Alice thought, _Enough for now, but don't think we're done talking about this. _Out loud she said, "I don't know. I'm sorry. I just don't. There are too many variables. It might help if we knew _why_ the girl was suddenly like this."

It was the same answer he'd gotten from her before. It didn't make him feel any better now than it had then.

For a brief moment, Edward considered going after the girl for an entirely different reason. If he could get close enough to her to hear her, but not close enough to smell her, he might be able to find out what had caused her breakdown. Even at a distance, he'd have to hold his breath to be assured of not… doing anything he'd regret very literally forever. But between himself, Jasper, and Alice, they might be able find out what had happened, if her breakdown was in fact caused by something happening as opposed to an organic or medical cause. Between the three of them, they could tell them what she was thinking, what she was feeling, and what would or wouldn't help her to get better.

Surprised, Edward realized he was seriously considering this.

Even though the girl would never know, it would be a way for him to make it up to her for….

Edward looked at Alice for the first time since she and Jasper had come after him. She was looking back at him with her head cocked to the right and her eyes slightly scrunched. He recognized that look.

"It _could_ work."

"What _could_, Alice? Define _could_."

Edward was worried, Alice didn't see him attacking her, but was he just using helping the girl as an excuse to go after her?

"I don't know, Edward. It's not an exact science, you know. Like I said before, there are too many variables."

Frustrated, Edward jumped down from his perch up in the tree as Alice explained the vision she'd had of his plan to Jasper. He didn't know very much about Charlie's daughter–hardly anything, in fact. He didn't know why he was taking such an interest in her. He just knew he was.

He'd told his family about his odd feeling of familiarity, of recognition, after seeing Chief Swan for the first time, but no one had any explanation for it. What he hadn't told anyone was how much stronger that feeling had gotten after he'd seen a photograph in Tanya's mind of the girl and Charlie together taken during her Easter visit, and it had intensified even more in the past few weeks after her breakdown.

There was something he was supposed to know but didn't; he was sure of it.

Edward started walking back toward home, and Alice and Jasper joined him. Alice's thoughts were centered on the girl, while Jasper was thinking about Charlie.

To say the very least, Jasper had not been happy about a human becoming so entwined in their lives. At first, he had seen Charlie's getting too close to them as a threat to his mate, and Tanya had seen Jasper's reaction as a threat to hers. They had been snarling and hissing at each other and it had taken every bit of diplomacy Carlisle possessed to defuse the situation. Only after numerous assurances from Alice and confirmations from himself that she saw clearly that Charlie would one day be one of them did Jasper back down.

Once Jasper's fears had been eased, his soldier's instincts had kicked in, and he'd begun to consider what strengths Charlie might possess as a vampire. Edward had only come across Charlie a few times before Tanya met him, and each of those times the man's thoughts had seemed so limited he'd just assumed the Forks Police Chief wasn't very bright. However, once Tanya had fallen in love with him, and he'd been around Charlie more often, Edward realized very quickly that he'd been completely wrong. It wasn't that the Chief of Police wasn't bright, it was that he, Edward, couldn't hear him, at least not completely. His thoughts had seemed limited because what Edward was hearing was limited. Charlie's thoughts were partially screened from him. He wasn't hearing them fully. That was something that had never happened to him before, not even with other vampires, and now, here was a human who could keep his thoughts partially concealed from him, enough to mislead him but not enough to draw his attention to the fact that he was not hearing everything.

Carlisle believed that when a human was changed, not only were their appearance, senses, and physical strength magnified exponentially, but so were their personal strengths, interests, and talents. Edward knew from Carlisle that as a human, he had been exceptionally perceptive, as had his mother, and that he'd become interested in psychology and the workings of the mind toward the end of his human life. As a vampire, those things had combined, and he could read minds. Jasper remembered being able to influence people, to sway them. He could see how a person felt about something and either encourage and excite those feelings or dampen and discourage them. Now, he was an empath who could sense and impact emotion in others. Alice's father had been afraid of her visions and had had her committed to an asylum. Today those visions were stronger and she could focus them, looking for specific outcomes that could either threaten or benefit them. They owed the vast majority of their fortune to her. The stock market, the lottery, casinos, they didn't stand a chance against Alice.

They would have had to be fools to not see the potential as a vampire in someone who could partially conceal his mind from Edward.

As they neared the house and heard the four of them talking, the unshakable feeling that he should know something he didn't continued clawing at Edward. There was really no such thing as privacy in a house filled with seven vampires, but they did try to preserve the illusion of it as much as possible. Extending that illusion to include Charlie, Edward and his siblings waited in the woods until the conversation was over, and he and Tanya had returned to his house for him to talk to his ex-wife and pack for their trip.

Entering the house, they found Carlisle and Esme still sitting at their antique, mahogany dining table and discussing the girl's condition. Of course, a dining table in a house where no one ate food was a completely useless piece of furniture, but having all the proper props in place was critical to maintaining the façade. It did get some use as a conference table at least, which was what it was now.

The three siblings sat around their adoptive parents and told them of Edward's idea. Afterward, Edward asked, "What do you think, Carlisle? We could book rooms at the same hotel without Charlie's knowing. I would have to stay in the room of course, and I couldn't go anywhere near Tanya. She'd have the girl's scent on her. As long as we're no more than about three miles from the girl's house I'd be able to hear her. Jaz would have to get closer to know what she was feeling."

Carlisle's thoughts were full of pride for his first son. _You are still the fine young man you always were, Edward. Whether you believe that or not. You are still the compassionate man I met all those years ago. I am prouder of you than I can say._

If Edward could have blushed, he would've. "Yes, well…. I do have two Doctor of Psychology degrees, after all. It would be nice to actually have an opportunity to use them."

"As the girl is Tanya's mate's daughter, it will be her final decision. But, what do you both think?"

Carlisle's question was directed at Jasper and Alice, and it was Alice who answered first. "It could work, Carlisle. I can't be sure. I definitely don't see any problems arising."

That was Alice's tactful way of saying that she didn't see Edward ripping the girl's throat out.

"Jasper?"

"Charlie is Tanya's mate, and he is distraught. Regardless of the fact that he is human now, he will eventually be one of us. Once that happens, if he were to learn we'd been in a position to potentially help him and did not, it could cause problems."

Jaz's words would have sounded cold and impersonal to outsiders, but his family knew that with his past, he couldn't help but look at any decision from a tactical point of view. It was just the way his thoughts ran. Edward turned his head to look at Jasper. For some reason, he had abruptly started blocking his thoughts from Edward, repeatedly singing "To Arms in Dixie" in his head, but before that he had thought to himself that as Tanya's mate, Charlie was family. And they took care of their family.

"Very well then. Emmett and Rosalie are hunting but will return to the house tonight. Edward, if you would, call Tanya and ask her to come to the house once Charlie is asleep. Once they are all here we will discuss it with her."

.

.oOo. .oOo.

.

Leaning against the door jam, Tanya watched Charlie close up his suitcase. "All packed?"

He silently nodded his head, and she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Resting her head against his shoulder blade, she listened to his heart beat strong and steady. She loved that sound.

She said, "I made our reservations. Our flight leaves tomorrow afternoon at 5:30 from Seattle and arrives in Phoenix at 9:18, and I got us a hotel about a mile and half from the house. I left the return trip open."

Seemingly worried, Charlie turned around and held her upper arms tightly. "You're planning on coming with me?"

"Of course I'm going with you. You didn't seriously think I'd let you do this alone did you?"

"But, you _can't_! The sun, you can't go out in the sun. Your skin... You'll burn."

"I've been living with this condition for a long time, Charlie. I'll be fine, I promise. Our flight gets in after well after sunset. I can wear long sleeves and long pants. I'll wear gloves and sunglasses and hats and scarves and shawls. I'll be fine. The parking at the hotel is covered, and I specified I needed a car with darkly tinted windows for medical reasons. I'm sure Renee can close the curtains while we're there. I'll even carry a parasol if it makes you feel better, but I am going with you."

.

.oOo. .oOo.

.

Alice looked up from the fashion magazine she was reading. "Charlie's finally asleep. Tanya is on her way."

"Then shall we wait for her at the table?"

The seven Cullens left their individual pursuits and took their places around the table to wait for their cousin, who ran in the door less than a minute later and went straight to Edward. "Edward, this was your idea? I cannot thank you enough." Tanya's gratitude made Edward very uncomfortable. Over the past few hours, the more he'd thought about helping the girl, the more he realized he wasn't doing it for his family. He wasn't even doing it for himself. He was doing it for the girl, and only for her. He wanted to help this girl, to protect her, and it had nothing to do with his guilt over wanting to drain her. Even his guilt over that was different. Edward realized his guilt wasn't solely over wanting the blood of an innocent human so badly he could never trust himself to be near her. As bad as that alone would be, this was worse. His guilt tormented him so badly because it was this particular innocent human, this particular girl. It was the girl alone–not her relationship to his family through Tanya's new mate–that made him want to do anything he could to help her.

As his family made plans, Edward let his mind wander. _Why am I so concerned about this girl? _Tanya's family in Alaska was called and would be meeting them in Phoenix. _Why do I feel so strongly like I should know something that I don't?_ Flights were booked. _Why do I feel so strongly that I should recognize a man I know I've never seen before?_ Hotel rooms were reserved. _There is _something_ I should know… something I should _remember_, I'm sure of it. _Cars were rented. _But I haven't forgotten anything… not a single second. I can't forget, no matter how badly I sometimes wish I could._ Esme called the hospital to tell them Carlisle wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be in for his shift the next night. _What am I missing? _

_ Edward? Son, is anything wrong?_

Edward briefly met Carlisle's eyes across the table before resuming his study of the graining in the wood surface of the table.

_ Edward. I know you can do this. But if you are having second thoughts–_

Carlisle's thoughts cut off at Edward's slight shake of his head. The plans were finalized, and Tanya remained only long enough to hug and kiss him in thanks before taking back off for Charlie's.

The whole meeting had taken less than eight minutes. Seven minutes and forty-eight seconds to be exact, and most of that was spent on-line confirming their reservations.

_ Don't worry little brother, I won't let you past me._

Edward sighed and looked up at Emmett.

_ I can be perceptive, too, you know. I remember what it was like. Resisting never even entered my head. Kate and Eleazar will be there, too. We won't let you near her. _

"Thanks, Em."

Carlisle and Esme stood up. "Esme and I are going to go hunt. We will be back by noon."

Edward was on his feet immediately, even before he realized he'd decided to go with them. "I think I will join you, if you don't mind. I should hunt before going so near the girl. Being thirsty with her so close would not be... prudent."

A smile lit up Esme's already beautiful face. "Of course, Edward. You know you are always welcome."

No biological mother could love her children more than Esme loved hers, and when one of them hurt, she hurt. She'd been so worried as he'd grown more and more agitated these past few weeks, and Edward could hear in her thoughts how relieved she was that he seemed to want to talk to them.

The three left the others behind, darting out the back door and running for several minutes into the Olympic National Park before stopping and testing the air. There was a small herd of elk a few hundred yards away, and they decided that would do for a start. Running quickly and noiselessly through the dense forest they were on the herd in seconds and had each taken one down before the herd had even realized danger was near.

As always, they spread their hunting trip out over as wide an area as possible in the time they had so as to not noticeably impact the local ecosystem. Alice had taken to calling it "limiting their carcass footprint."

They next ran southeast reaching the Mount Adams Wilderness before stopping again. Edward caught the scent of a mountain lion and was off to track it while Carlisle and Esme followed the scent of several deer drinking from a nearby stream.

Esme loved waterfalls, and after they had their fill, they followed the stream to one of her favorites. Carlisle and Esme settled down together next to the trunk of a large spruce tree near the base of the waterfall and watched as Edward paced anxiously, looking like a nervous teenager trying to build up the nerve to tell his parents he'd taken the car without permission and wrecked it.

Edward crossed the stream in one stride and sat, with his back to his parents, on a large boulder watching the water crash on the rocks as he tried to find the right words to describe what he was feeling. Finally, without looking at the only parents he remembered, he spoke, "Is it possible for a vampire to go insane?"

Carlisle answered hesitatingly, "Not that I'm aware of. No."

Edward picked up a small rock and flung it into the waterfall. It smashed to pieces against the rock face behind the fall.

"Marvelous. I can be the first then."

"Please don't think like that, dearest."

He heard in Esme's thoughts that she wanted to go to him, but Carlisle tightened his arm around her shoulder, and she remained where she was. "Why would you think that?"

Just like earlier with Alice and Jasper, not looking at them made talking a little easier, and Edward kept his eyes on the never ending stream of water.

It had been a long time since he was able to appreciate the beauty of the world around him, but even someone as morose as himself had to admit, it really was a beautiful spot. The moon appeared in a break in the clouds, and the millions of tiny water droplets spraying in all directions from the base of the fall reflected the moonlight, throwing it off in rainbows like millions of tiny prisms, each one lasting only the briefest of moments. Unlike the light reflected off their skin, these rainbows looked alive with the energy of the running water. Edward could see why Esme liked it here so much. It must be spectacular during the day on the rare occasions the sun shined, if they could just keep it a secret from the humans.

He thought to himself it would be a nice place to come with his mate. If he had one. Which he didn't. A feeling of intense loss, worse than anything Edward had ever known, swept over him.

More to himself than his parents, he said, "I know Charlie. Or… I _knew_ him."

"You still feel that way?"

"I don't feel it; I know it. I don't know from where... but I knew him before…. No, that's not right. I didn't know him, I knew _of_ him… somehow… from somewhere… through someone…. I can't remember how, or from where, or through whom, but I am entirely certain of it." In frustration, Edward rubbed his temples as if he had a headache. He could barely understand what exactly he felt himself, putting it into words for someone else was nearly impossible. For the first time, he wished there was someone who could read _his_ mind. "There is something I forgot. Or someone I forgot. Someone important. Someone vitally important."

"We can find out how long his family has been in Forks, perhaps you came across his grandfather the last time we were here, or saw him in someone's mind. Perhaps they bare a strong likeness."

Edward exhaled slowly. "No. That's not it. It's _him_. It's definitely him."

The moment Carlisle said the word "grandfather," the feeling of déjà vu–if vampires could feel déjà vu–surged even stronger in Edward.

"Perhaps you saw him in a vision of Alice's? When Tanya decided to go with me to the police station?" Esme asked.

"No. I felt it before that. The very first moment I saw him."

Edward remembered that first meeting. Worried about potential trouble from a family with five adopted teenagers, Charlie had called on them at their house to introduce himself as the Chief of Police shortly after their arrival. Fortunately, Alice had seen him coming, and they were able to place boxes around the front room to make it appear as if they were still in the process of unpacking. The gnawing feeling he'd that seen the man before had grown since then, but Edward was certain that was definitely the moment it first hit him. And that was exactly how it felt, like being hit. Like being hit across the face by something, no some_one_, someone screaming at him to remember them.

Edward debated with himself whether or not to mention the constantly growing need to help the girl, but ultimately decided against it. It was too private; he wasn't ready to share that with anyone.

As certain as he was that he somehow had known of Charlie before he met him, Edward was even more certain he needed to help the girl. Helping this unknown human girl had somehow become the only thing he could think about; his need to help her was nearly as strong as the burn in his throat when he remembered her scent.

Edward knew from what he'd seen of the girl in Charlie's mind that she was petite, not over 5' 4". He knew she had lost several pounds these past few weeks, and as thin as she already was, she did not have the weight to lose.

Picturing the girl in his mind, Edward couldn't keep the proud smile of his face when he thought of how she had ripped into that mutt at Easter. Tanya had been worried over the conversation she'd heard between the two them in Charlie's kitchen one day. When Charlie and the girl had spoken, she'd seemed very positive about their relationship, but when it had been just the girl and the mutt, she'd seemed to change her tune, saying she worried about Tanya's _influence_ over her father.

In his anger at the mention of Tanya and their family, the mutt had very nearly lost control and phased in front of her. Edward tensed at the thought of just how much danger the girl had unknowingly been in for those few moments until Fido had gotten himself back under control, and he suddenly understood how Tanya must've felt these past few months. She had instantly moved closer to the house from where she'd been hidden in the tree tops, but who knew how much damage the dog could've cause in the fraction of a second it would've taken her to get to them?

Edward growled deep in his chest when he pictured the alpha mutt's girlfriend. He knew exactly how much damage an immature, untrained dog could cause in a fraction of a second. Horribly scarred for life, the young woman was lucky to even be alive. Had Fido had lost control of himself, that could so easily have happened to the girl.

Unbeknownst to himself, but observed by both Carlisle and Esme, Edward's fingers flexed before clenching tightly into fists, his knees bent slightly as if about to spring in attack. So focused on the girl was Edward, that he did not see his actions in his parents' thoughts.

Time passed, but Edward did not speak again. Understanding his son wasn't ready to talk to them more than he already had, Carlisle said, "It's almost dawn, Edward. I believe we'll head back."

Pulled from his thoughts by his father's voice, Edward was surprised to realize his body was poised to attack an enemy that was not there. He forced himself to relax and turned to face his parents for the first time. He said, "I think I'll stay here for a little while. Watch the sunrise before the clouds move back in."

Carlisle told him to be sure he was back at the house by early afternoon at the latest so they could leave for the airport, as if he needed to be reminded, and they turned and started home.

Edward remembered how Tanya had visibly sagged in relief when he'd told her what he'd heard in Fido's mind of the girl's fight with him and his sister in their kitchen at Easter. The girl hadn't been siding with him in the conversation Tanya had overheard; she'd been playing him. Edward laughed out loud thinking of how the girl had ripped the dog a new one defending them. Here was a small, human girl tearing into a werewolf and letting him have it in defense of her father's vampire girlfriend. It really was too funny.

His laughter soon faded as the feeling that he had forgotten something vital, something intrinsic, someone irreplaceable, soared higher than ever before, so high, it took his breath away. Edward's mood sank further at the thought of the girl who had been so strong and so brave, so vital and full of life only a few months ago but was now reduced for some unknown reason to a near unresponsive state.

He sat watching the water droplets cast their rainbows as he thought about her, keeping her smiling face in the photograph with her father in his mind, and he resolved to do whatever he could to help her. She had defended his family, and now she needed them. _Maybe that is why I feel so compelled to help her, because she defended us. _

Sunrise broke over the horizon, casting its light on the waterfall, and the millions of water droplets exploded into life, the small rainbows from earlier becoming fireworks. Edward had always liked sunrises and sunsets, and he gasped at the beauty. It had been entirely too long since he had bothered to notice the beauty around him, and the scene in front of him now surpassed all his memories of the beauty nature could create. Edward sat, lost in the show nature was putting on before him and lost in his thoughts about the girl for so long that he was startled to hear the thoughts of distant but approaching humans, and he instinctively leapt into the nearest tree and hid himself high in its branches. Laughing at himself when he realized the humans were still well over an hour's hike away, Edward took one last look at the waterfall that had kept him so entranced before taking off running as fast as he could toward home. His last thought before he left was that it really would be a beautiful spot to bring a mate.

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As you see, I made Edward the one to lose his memory, not Alice. If a person is frozen how they are at the moment of their change, I think it makes sense that he would've lost his memory. Between the amount of drugs he'd have been given and how high his temperature would likely have been, he'd have had no sense about anything, who or where he was. I'm afraid Edward lost more than just his human life, he lost everything connected to it. His family, his friends, everyone and everything, including Bella. That's why I went into detail on his daily life and the people he loved, because I wanted the reader to see and feel everything Edward lost. All he knows of his human life is what he's seen in Carlisle's mind, and a good portion of that is bad. The only two memories he has of his father are the 4th of July picnic and his death. And remember at the 4th of July picnic? His father's and friend's reactions to Carlisle? He understands now that their reaction was because Carlisle was a vampire, just like he now is, too. He knows how his mother suffered after his father's death, and he has seen himself wasting away with first grief over his father and worry for his mother and then through exhaustion with the epidemic. He understands now Carilisle's desire to keep both him and his mother safe from the epidemic, urging them to stay away from the hospital. And he has seen Carlisle's memories of that last night in the hospital with little Charlie on his lap and knows that was likely when he was infected himself. It could also have been when he fell asleep with Charlie and Kitty while they were staying at his house, but he has no knowledge that that ever happened because Carlisle didn't witness it. But one way or the other, he caught the flu from Charlie. He knows he loved the little boy enough to risk such close and prolonged contact with him rather than leave him alone, but he has not one other memory of him because that was the only time Carlisle ever saw him. He has the memory of Carlisle's that Edward told him he taught the little boy to throw a ball at a picnic, but aside from knowing it happened, he has no actual memory of it. Edward is always described as sullen and broody, but can you blame him?


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

I'm sorry this wasn't up on Saturday morning (my time, anyway – near New York City). I've been having trouble uploading. I keep getting connection errors. Last week it took three days to get the chapter up. As soon as I finally emailed them that I was having trouble, it worked. Maybe I should just send the email first thing, just to be sure. I also post on The Writer's Coffee Shop and Twilighted, but Twilighted has their own validation process which takes a little time. If there's no weekly update here, feel free to check those sites.

Thank you to all who voted for me on "What's pwning you?" on Fictionators! My story was one of five top vote getters and was mentioned on their monthly podcast!

A particularly big thank you to everyone who "liked" face book hope for david 2012

David had his surgery on Thursday, July 26th and it went very well. Both his pancreas and spleen were removed. It was shorter than anticipated because it "went smoother than expected." I believe it was 12 hours rather than the 16 they expected. The first few days post-surgery will be very painful, and he has a very long road in front of him, but so far, so good! He's looking at a 1 – 2 week PICU stay followed by an additional 3 – 5 weeks in the hospital, and the entire recovery time is expected to be a year long. They've currently got over 1200 "likes". If you haven't already, please visit the site and hit that little "like" button! Let's see how high we can get it!

I'm so sorry I haven't been able been able to respond to reviews. I'm trying to get a Harry Potter fic finished. It's for a fest, so it's got a deadline – which I am completely freaking out about not making.

Plus, there's always that little 6ish lbs, 20 inches of pure cuteness I could just sit and stare at forever. We took him for his newborn pictures Friday night. The boy cried like I'd never heard him cry before. He's just like his father, doesn't like having his picture taken.

I'm being translated! Thank you to the lovely Verosmee Cullen, who has volunteered to translate my fic into Spanish! Chapter 1 is up. Me quedo, Tuyo.

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Now, on with the story!

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"Tanya! Over here!"

Tanya looked in her sister's direction when she heard her name called from across the terminal, and her face lit up when she saw Kate, Carmen, and Eleazar smiling and waving at her. Although there was no one more important to her than Charlie now, she missed her family terribly–her sisters especially. After all, they had been together for a millennium and were not used to being apart for more than a few days, weeks at the most, and it had now been five months since they had last seen each other. Covering her mouth lightly with her hand and pretending to cough, she spoke much too quickly for human ears to hear. "I'm so happy to see you. I've missed you so much. I cannot thank you enough for coming."

"So this is Charlie. Can't wait to get to meet him. Irina's sorry she couldn't come. Laurent is having a tough time adjusting, and she needed to stay with him."

"Of course."

Tanya's initial focus was primarily on her sister, Kate, and it took a few seconds before she noticed the appraising look on Eleazar's face. A very low growl erupted from her chest, far too low for the humans around them to hear, but the three vampires a hundred yards away heard it clearly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tanya. But you know what Alice said. It is going to happen. When it does, he is going to be very powerful. He's a shield, and a strong one."

Tanya took Charlie's arm and laid her head against his shoulder, smiling proudly up at him. She wasn't surprised. They suspected as much since Edward couldn't fully hear his thoughts, but it was nice having it confirmed.

Kate said, "We'll met up with the others and see you at the hotel later."

Charlie looked down at her about to say something, and she stretched up to kiss him. Her mate was a very private person, but he was getting used to her sudden public displays of affection.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Does it need to be for anything? I love you, isn't that enough?"

As always when she told him she loved him, his heart jumped and sped up, and he felt… dazzled… like the luckiest man in the world. The first time she told him she loved him was one of the two happiest moments in his life, tied only with the first time he saw Bella when the nurse placed her in his arms.

They had been sitting curled up together on his couch with her head against his chest, and she'd been tracing patterns on the inside of his forearm with her fingertips when she had quietly breathed, "I love you, Charlie." The words had been spoken so softly, barely even a whisper, he hadn't been completely sure he'd really heard what he thought he'd heard. He was completely tense until he looked down into her face and saw the love and hope in her eyes. He felt so many things for her, and he wanted to tell her all of them, but he was never good with words and didn't know how. Looking into her eyes now, he said the same thing he'd said then, "I love you, too."

Having gotten their bags, they made their way to the car rental counter. After blinking stupidly several times and finally remembering to breathe, the man behind the counter pulled up their reservation and led them to their car. Unable to keep his eyes off Tanya, he stumbled and fell over a curb. Rubbing his scraped knee and turning fire-engine red, he limped up to a car with the darkly tinted windows Tanya had specified. "Your car, Miss Cullen. I hope it will meet your requirements."

Charlie was staring slack-jawed at the car Tanya had reserved for them. He was about to protest that they didn't need such an expensive car, but when he looked at Tanya, her face was pinched in obvious pain, and her hand was on her throat. Charlie, immediately worried, put his arm around her, and she leaned against him.

"Tanya?"

Her only answer was a shake of her head.

The rental car agent was tripping over himself trying to be of assistance. "Can I get you anything, Miss Cullen? Would you like to sit down, Miss Cullen? Can I get you glass of water, Miss Cullen?"

Tanya swallowed with visible difficulty before putting her hand over her mouth and speaking in a pained rush, "No. Thank you."

Charlie was watching her in concern and barely spared a glance at the rental car agent as he took the keys from the man. "She'll be fine. She just needs some fresh air."

They quickly got in the car, and Charlie kept his eye on her as they drove out of the lot, but she appeared to be doing much better. Her face was no longer a mask of pain, and she was taking slow, deep breaths.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much better. Thank you."

He hated that she sounded ashamed when she answered him with downcast eyes. It wasn't her fault, and he wished her could tell her that. But he was getting better at picking up and understanding signals, and he could see she very definitely did not want to talk about it. There was a silence in the car that was awkward in a way that silence never had been between them before, and desperate to break it he tried to start a conversation. "So, what kind of car is this anyway?"

"It's an XJ8."

When he rubbed the back of his neck Tanya laughed her fluid, musical laugh, and just like that the awkwardness was gone. It was just the two of them again, easy, comfortable, and above all, right.

"It's a Jaguar," she elaborated.

Now it was Charlie's turn to suddenly feel sick, and he put both hands on the wheel at ten-and-two and kept a much better eye on the road. "Tanya, do you realize this car probably costs as much as my house?"

"Not to rent."

"That's not the point."

"What is?"

"I drive a twelve-year-old Chevy."

"Did you bring it with you?"

"T_an_ya…."

"Ch_aarr_lie…."

Neither spoke for a moment but this silence was comfortable, not strained like earlier. They'd disagreed about money before, usually agreeing to disagree as neither wanted to argue. This time it was Tanya who broke first. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I can't help it if I like the best," reaching her hand over, she smiled flirtingly and laced their fingers together, "in everything. I have money, but it doesn't mean anything. I came into it. I didn't have to work for it. I wish you would let me spend a little of it on you."

"I don't need anything."

"It doesn't have to be a _need._ It's OK to just _want_ something. Isn't there anything you want?"

He returned the light squeeze of her fingers. "Not anymore."

Tanya's lips spread in one of her radiant smiles, and his heart jumped again.

"And, besides, with the car it really was a necessity," Tanya went on to say. "It was the only car they could guarantee the tinted windows on."

Charlie nodded his head in agreement. If it was the only way to guarantee the tinted windows, then it really was a necessity. Tanya had explained to him that she, her sisters, and their cousin, Carlisle, all suffered from the same genetic condition caused by an inherited enzyme deficiency which results in extreme photosensitivity. She had tried to explain it to him, but having no medical knowledge or background, he didn't understand the technical medical terms she used.

That had been months ago, when they'd first met. Since then, he'd learned a lot more, and as far as he was concerned, the hows and the whys didn't matter. All he really needed to know was that sunlight filtered through clouds or darkly tinted windows she could tolerate–direct sunlight she couldn't.

Their hotel was about a half hour from the airport, and as soon as they checked in they went straight to Renee's house. Charlie didn't want to wait until morning to see his little girl.

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Renee was expecting them, watching out the window and waiting. When they pulled up in front of her house in their rental car, she went outside to welcome them, but when she saw first the car they arrived in then the woman her ex-husband had with him, she stopped in her tracks, too stunned to move.

Charlie had gotten out of the car and nodded his head to her in greeting before walking around the car and opening the door for a woman who could make supermodels cry. Bella had told her the woman was beautiful, but this was just ridiculous.

No human being had the right to be _that _beautiful.

Pulling herself together, Renee scolded herself. Yes, the woman was beautiful–OK, honestly, she was breathtaking–but Renee knew from what Charlie had told her that his girlfriend had some pretty serious health problems. She knew the poor woman not only suffered from a rare condition that not only left her a virtual prisoner trapped indoors for fear of the damage the sun could do and the intense pain it could cause–which meant coming to Phoenix was taking a rather large risk–but could also lead to liver disease in the future, but she was also anemic and had circulatory problems that made her hands and feet very cold to the touch. This woman may have the face of an angel, but she did not have her health.

Once the initial shock passed, it only took a few seconds of looking at this woman and her ex-husband together for Renee to see how much they loved each other. Renee might not love Charlie like she once did, but he was her daughter's father, and she would always care for him. It made Renee genuinely happy to see him happy.

Looking back now, Renee knew she had not even been close to being ready for marriage back then. She had been more in love with the idea of being in love and wanting to be a bride than she had been truly in love with Charlie and wanting to become a wife. She also understood now how badly she must've hurt him when she left. She hadn't been ready for marriage then, but he had been. Now, with Phil…. If Phil were ever to leave her like she left Charlie, Renee knew she'd never get over it.

This woman made Charlie happy, and that was all that really mattered. Even if she could make Venus herself spit nails.

Renee went up to Charlie and embraced him warmly before turning to Tanya and welcoming her. Tanya, in turn, thanked her for allowing them to come so late at night.

"I apologize for the late hour. I hope we aren't keeping you up."

"No. No, not at all. Please… please, come in. She's awake now, actually. It's… it's like caring for a baby. I sleep when she sleeps."

Charlie didn't need to be told twice, and Renee led him to Bella's room. She had told him what to expect, but nothing could've prepared him for the sight of his daughter. Bella's normally fair skin was sallow. Her hair looked like straw. There were such dark circles under her eyes that she looked like she'd been beaten. The weight she'd lost was visible in her face in her sunken cheeks.

Charlie inhaled sharply and ran a hand over his face and through his hair. His other hand held Tanya's tightly. He knelt next to the bed and held Bella's hand, talking to her and trying to get a response.

Renee knew he wouldn't, but she knew he needed to try. She still tried, too.

Tanya stepped back slightly, giving Charlie and the girl's mother space, while simultaneously carefully monitoring the girl's vital signs and making a detailed observation of her room per Carlisle's instructions. She smelled no drugs in the room or anywhere in the house, and there were no needle marks visible on what she could see of the girl's arms. She smelled no alcohol.

"Tanya? We're here. How is she?"

Tanya was relieved to hear Carlisle's voice as they slowly drove past the house. The only medical knowledge she had was what he had been able to tell her in the very brief time they'd had before leaving Seattle, but she knew enough to know that the girl needed help. Stepping back further away from the girl's bed, Tanya leaned against an old desk and answered him quietly and quickly. "There are no drugs or alcohol that I can smell. Her heart rate is slightly elevated, breathing is shallow. Her blood pressure is low. I haven't touched her, but her temperature does not appear to be above normal. She looks dehydrated and undernourished. She is awake, but she had no reaction to seeing Charlie. Her affect is flat.(1) Jasper, what is she feeling? Can you tell? Has Edward found her thoughts yet? What is she thinking? Does she know her father is here?"

There was a slight hesitation before Carlisle spoke again. It was only a second, but it was enough to catch her attention and worry her. He said, "Since he's never heard her voice, Edward was following your mind to guide him to hers. He's waiting at the hotel. We'll meet you there once Charlie is asleep."

"Carlisle? What is it? Jasper? What's wrong? What've you felt? What has Edward heard?"

It was no good, though. They didn't answer, and she heard their car drive away.

Resisting the urge to growl in frustration, Tanya forced herself to wait quietly until the girl drifted back to sleep so she could suggest to Charlie that they return to their hotel and let her mother get some sleep, too.

Seeing his daughter like that had been very hard on her mate, and she drove them the short distance back to their hotel in silence, knowing he would talk to her when he was ready. Back in the privacy of their room, Charlie sat down with his head in his hands. She sat on the arm of the chair and ran her fingertips lightly up and down his back, reassuring him that she was there but giving him the space he needed.

She still saw the insecurity in his eyes sometimes, the fear that she would leave him. Of course the idea was ludicrous. She was a vampire, and he was her mate. She would never leave him. But he didn't know anything about that. He couldn't know anything about that, not yet, for everyone's protection. The greatest fear she had ever known was that Charlie would tell her to stay away from him when he found out the truth. He had been completely honest with her and believed she had been completely honest with him. How would he react when he found out otherwise?

She was terrified that the dogs would break the treaty and tell him. There was no way that could end well. They would paint her as a monster, an evil predator, an abomination. It didn't matter to them that she had chosen centuries ago to live solely off of animal blood. They wouldn't even bother to tell him that. If he learned the truth from them, she would lose him. He would never want to see her again. She would do what he asked and leave him alone, but she would never be far. She would always be there, hidden somewhere nearby watching over him, protecting him, just like she always was when she couldn't be with him, and hoping beyond hope that he would one day forgive her.

She had to be the one to tell him; it had to be his choice whether to join her, and he had to know the whole truth before he made that decision.

After fourteen minutes, he leaned back in the chair, and she very gently squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles before squeezing her hand in return.

"We waited too long. We shouldn't have waited so long. We should've done something sooner."

"Love, please don't be so hard on yourself. Remember, four weeks ago, no one knew it would go on this long."

"This is a good place, right? Carlisle's sure?"

"It's the best."

Charlie nodded his head, and they sat quietly together for some time longer before he got up for some human time in the bathroom. Tanya could hear her family in the room directly above them, but they were deliberately speaking only of other things. Frustrated and growing steadily more and more worried, she had no choice but to wait until Charlie was asleep to find out what they had learned. If they were unwilling to tell her what they had learned while she was with Charlie, it could only be something bad.

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In the room upstairs, Jasper was still shaken by the incredible intensity of emotion he had felt from the girl. Tanya had told them the girl's affect was flat, but that was not what he had felt from her at all. The fact that Edward was so on edge was not helping matters.

"Edward, if you pull at your hair anymore, you're likely to rip it out," Alice said.

Not even his sister's mental picture of him with matching bald spots on each side of his head for eternity could distract Edward. His only reaction was to get up and return to his anxious pacing.

_Maybe I'm too far away? But I can hear Tanya and the mother just fine. The girl would have to take after her father. But what if she doesn't take after Charlie? What if she's been hurt so badly…. _Growling fiercely, Edward refused to let himself consider that possibility. _ Maybe I need to get closer? But I _can't _get closer. _

A second low growl rumbled in Edward's chest as he continued to berate himself. Everyone was watching him intently, and Emmett, Eleazar, and Kate were on their feet and surrounding him before the sound of his growls faded away. Emmett and Eleazar were crouched and ready to spring at him, and Kate's hands were a fraction of an inch away from him, ready to shock him to the ground at the first sign he might try to leave the room.

"Edward! Enough already, you're making everyone crazy which is making me crazy!" Jasper yelled.

Alice said, "Everyone, relax. He's not even considering going after the girl. Jaz is right, Edward. It's not your fault she's a shield like her father any more than it is she's your singer."

"Empathic, too, are you now, Alice?" Edward snapped.

"I don't need to be empathic, Edward. I have eyes, and I know you."

Emmett, Eleazar, and Kate relaxed and returned to their seats, still watchful. Edward looked at Esme as she said, "Alice is right, Edward. We all put too much pressure on you both. We expect you to hear everything and see everything."

Edward closed his eyes in frustration. None of them understood. He didn't care that he couldn't hear _someone's_ mind. He couldn't fully hear Charlie's either. It was that he couldn't hear _this girl's_ mind that was making him crazy. He wanted to know what was in this girl's thoughts more than he had ever wanted to know anything. He _had_ to help her. But he couldn't help her if he couldn't hear her thoughts. She wasn't a shield like her father. Her shield was much different. With Charlie, he could at least hear _something_. With the girl, there was absolutely nothing. There was just empty space where her mind should be. It was like there were three people in the room, not the four that there really were. The fear he'd been refusing to consider overwhelmed him. What if she wasn't a shield at all? What if whatever was wrong… What if after whatever had happened to her, there was just nothing left for him to hear? The image he'd seen in Tanya's mind of the girl lying in her bed was stuck in his head. The difference between that image and the one he'd seen in Fido's mind of the strong, vibrant, healthy girl telling him off only a few months ago was so stark, he could scarcely believe they were both of the same girl. The only comparison he could find in his experience was the difference he saw in Carlisle's memories of him as a human, between their first meeting in June and that last night in the hospital in October, when he'd held his sick cousin on his lap before he fell victim to that horrible epidemic.

But the girl wasn't physically sick. Not judging by the evidence of Tanya's senses. Her temperature was not elevated. Her lungs were clear. The girl, at least, could breathe.

Edward's hands clenched into fists. If there was someone responsible for this…. If someone had done something to her–hurt her–he would have one more person's blood on his hands.

Edward again growled in frustration. He needed to help this girl, and the one and only thing he _could_ do to help her, he _couldn't_ do. He was completely useless to her. How many times had he wished he could turn the voices off? How many minds had he heard that he wished he hadn't? Now, the one timehe really _needed _to hear someone, there was nothing. The one person whose thoughts he really wanted to know was the one person who could keep him out. If it wasn't so maddening, it would be funny.

Finally, Charlie fell asleep, and Tanya ran up the stairs to the room where her family was waiting so fast, any humans in the stairwell or hallway would've seen nothing but a blur. Alice stood beside the open door to their room. In Tanya's hurry, Alice had seen her tear it from its hinges.

"Well?"

Tanya's eyes darted from Edward to Jasper to Alice to Carlisle and back again before settling on Jasper. He seemed reluctant to speak.

"More than anything, she's in pain. She's in a severe state of depression, and she's in tremendous emotional pain. I've never felt so much pain from a human. It's no wonder she's unresponsive. It's too much pain for her to deal with. It's more than any human would be able to deal with it. Her mind and body are acting in self-defense, trying to protect her from the pain. It's not… a _normal _level of emotional pain for a human…. The only way I could describe how much pain she is in is what I would feel if anything were to happen to Alice." He paused and sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was full of regret. "I'm sorry, Tanya, Kate, forgive me, but the pain I felt from the girl is the same as I feel from you when you think of your mother."

Tanya stood frozen to the spot. Her eyes were wide with grief for her mate's daughter. Kate came to her and put her arm around her in silent support. After several moments she turned her eyes to Edward. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. They'd been counting on him, and he was letting them down. The girl, Bella, had been counting on him, and he was letting her down.

"Nothing."

"She's a shield? Like Charlie? You can't hear her?"

"No. I can't hear her… but it's not like with Charlie. With him, there is something, just not everything. With the girl, there is nothing." Edward couldn't stand how useless he felt. The only thought in his head–the only thought that was his own anyway–was the image of the girl lying in her bed he had seen in Tanya's mind when she'd first entered her room. This girl was unknowingly depending on him, counting on him, and he was failing her.

Tanya's breath shuddered as she asked, "Alice?"

"I'm sorry, Tanya. I just don't know. It's like…. If she was just sleeping normally, I could tell when she'd wake up because it's not something that's pending a decision. Like with the weather. I can't see when she'll come out of this because she has to decide to come out of it, and she hasn't."

_Or can't, _Edward silently filled in to himself.

"Carlisle?"

"Not having examined the girl personally, I can only guess, but if she's experienced some traumatic event that no one is aware of, and her mind is trying to protect itself from the pain, I can only hope she'll come out of it when she's ready. Until then there may not be anything anyone can do. I'm sorry."

"So… there is nothing we can do? Charlie has to watch his daughter…. Watch her what? Lose her mind? Waste away? And there is nothing I can do? All this…. My dragging you all down here was for nothing?"

Carlisle tried to reassure her, "You didn't drag us anywhere, Tanya. We all came willingly–"

"Tanya, Charlie's going to wake up in six minutes," Alice interrupted.

Carlisle looked at Tanya. Even though she was roughly some three times his age, she looked very young right now–young, lost, and afraid–and he felt as paternal toward her in that moment as he did his own children. "Go back to him. We'll talk again later."

She nodded her head and turned to leave without saying another word. Carlisle called to her as she was in the stairwell. "Tanya, remember, this really is one of the best psychiatric hospitals in the country. They have a great deal of experience, and I have every confidence they will help the girl. She just needs to be ready for their help."

The next morning the sun shone brightly on Phoenix, not that you would know that from the inside of Renee's house. It was nearly pitch black inside. "I'm afraid we just have vertical blinds on the windows. They let a lot of sun in even when they're closed. I tacked up towels and dark colored plastic garbage bags. I hope that's enough?"

Tanya was pulling off the thin, white cotton gloves she'd worn. Charlie had been a little over zealous in protecting her from the sun. She was covered from head to toe with at least two layers of fabric, and he had taken her parasol comment to heart and had held an umbrella over her as they walked from the car to the house. "It's more than enough. Thank you, Renee. That was very considerate."

All three were very nervous, standing around and looking everywhere but at each other, not knowing what to say or how to begin. Bella had an intake appointment in less than two hours. It was just a formality really; everyone knew she would be admitted.

Renee offered, "Can I offer you anything? Have you eaten? Can I get you some coffee?"

"No. Thank you."

"Tanya? Are you sure?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Renee."

"Phil's awful sorry he couldn't be here."

"Where's the team?"

"Pennsylvania this week."

After another interval of awkward silence, Charlie spoke, "We might as well get started. Do you have her bag?"

Renee nodded her head, unable to speak for several seconds. She took a deep breath. "Outside her door. Thank you, both. I don't think I could've packed her things myself."

The three silently made their way to Bella's room. She was lying on her other side this morning, and Renee had gotten her into new pajamas and brushed her hair, but otherwise she looked exactly the same. Charlie set Bella's suitcase down on top of her desk and opened it.

Renee's voice shook as she spoke, "Her t-shirts are in the top dresser drawer."

Tanya took the top three t-shirts out and handed them to Charlie while Renee was getting Bella's underwear and night shirts.

"I've been reading to her, but we finished the books she had out just yesterday. I think she keeps more of her books in the bottom drawers of her desk."

Charlie had just reached down and opened the bottom drawer when there was a sudden, loud shout, "NO!"

Instantly, three heads snapped to the bed. Bella was sitting straight up and looking at them like a deer caught in headlights. She suddenly jumped up, but after not being out of bed for more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a time and barely eating for four weeks, the sudden movement was too much, and she swayed on her feet. Charlie's arms were around her instantly, and he guided her to her desk chair.

"Water… and sugar… she needs water and sugar," he said.

Renee's voice trembled. "Vitamin Water, in the fridge."

Without saying a word Tanya hurried, human-paced hurrying anyway, to the kitchen just as her phone vibrated in her pocket. "Hello, Alice."

"She's awake!"

"Yes, I know. But why? Not that it's not wonderful, but why now? Why all of a sudden? Will it last? For how long? What do we do now?"

"I don't know why. I can't see humans as well as I can see vampires, especially humans I've never met, so I tried looking at Charlie's and your future. I saw her wake up as soon as Charlie went to get her books. Carlisle is on his way. I'll talk to you later."

Tanya said good bye and slipped her phone in her pocket just before she entered Bella's room again. "Charlie."

Charlie turned to her, and she handed him the open bottle.

"Here, Bells. Drink this."

"Not too fast. Small sips," Tanya added.

Bella held the bottle of vitamin water like a toddler might hold their teddy bear. She sat huddled over, curling in on herself, and her eyes turned to the voice she didn't recognize seemingly against her will. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she looked up at Tanya. "Who are you?"

Her voice was raspy from weeks of disuse, but it was music to her parents' ears. Renee fell to the ground next to Bella's chair, dropped her head on her daughter's lap, and burst into tears. Charlie let out a slow breath that he felt like he had been holding in for a month and leaned against the desk, feeling like his legs might give out.

Tanya smiled down at her. "Hello, Bella. My name is Tanya. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Tanya could hear Carlisle pull up in front of the house. "Tanya, Jasper and I are outside."

She looked to Charlie and lightly touched his back, saying, "I'll give you some privacy."

Carlisle said, "She should eat something. Something small to start. She needs frequent, small meals. We need to regulate her blood sugar. Bland food to start. I'm not a nutritionist, but try a scrambled egg. The protein will help her."

Before leaving the room, Tanya asked, "Renee, why don't I make Bella something to eat? A scrambled egg, maybe?"

Renee wasn't able to answer her, but Tanya glanced again at Charlie, who nodded his head.

"Bella, Charlie said you liked the muffins over Easter. How about I make you some this afternoon?"

Bella didn't respond. She closed her eyes and sighed brokenly, curling further in on herself.

Once alone in the kitchen, Tanya panicked. She'd never made scrambled eggs for Charlie, and she had no idea how to do it. Really, she had no idea how to cook, period. All she could do was follow instructions from a cook book, but she didn't have a cook book. Just as she was about to look and see if Renee had one that would hopefully have instructions on how to scramble an egg, her phone rang again. "Hello again, Alice."

"I Googled it…." Alice proceeded to walk Tanya through scrambling an egg, and between Carlisle's input as to what she should add to increase the nutritional value, and Alice's instructions as to what she _could_ add, (I understand apples, blueberries, and broccoli are nutritious, but the Food Network doesn't have any scrambled egg with apples, blueberries, and broccoli recipes,) Tanya managed to successfully scramble her first egg.

As she was placing the frying pan in the sink she heard Emmett crack a joke in the background. "How many vampires does it take to scramble an egg?"

Taking the plate back to Bella's room, Tanya's hand was almost on the door when her phone rang again. "What now, Alice?"

"A fork. She needs a fork. Humans use a fork to eat eggs."

Thanking Alice again and thanking whatever higher power might be listening for her clairvoyant cousin, Tanya returned to the kitchen again for the forgotten fork.

"Here we are, scrambled eggs for protein with shredded cheese for calcium and mushrooms for the B vitamins, copper, selenium, and potassium."

Charlie looked at her oddly and shook his head as she handed him the plate, but Renee didn't look away from her daughter.

"Too much information. Humans don't recite the nutritional value of their food. They just eat it," Carlisle said.

Tanya suppressed a groan. Interacting with humans was so much easier when it was just her and her mate.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"There, Edward. She's out of bed, and she's eating. Will you chill now?"

Edward rubbed his eyes, barely sparing Alice a glance. It wasn't possible for him to feel physically tired, but he was learning just how capable he was of feeling completely emotionally rung out.

"I have a question."

Already hearing the question in Emmett's head, Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and was just about to tell his family to not ask. He could hear the grin in both Emmett's voice and his mind.

"What Emmett?"

_Too late, _Edward thought to himself.

"Well, I don't understand how she could have not gotten out of bed for four weeks. I mean, she's human. She couldn't have held it that whole time. She'd have had to_ go. _Know what I mean?"

Typical Emmett. Not surprisingly there was a chorus of "Emmett, really," from the women and chortling from the men.

_Oh, come on, little brother. You know it was funny. Lighten up and laugh a little. She is getting better after all. Isn't that what you wanted? _

"I'm older than you, Emmett."

_Don't think so, little brother. My twenty to your seventeen. You'd think with all those Master's degrees you've got you would've grasped grade school math by now. Greater than, less than. It's not hard. Don't worry, when we get home I'll make flash cards to help you._

In spite of his mood, Edward smiled at Emmett's antics. "Thanks, Em."

_There you go. There it is. The elusive Edward Cullen smile. And poor Jessica Stanley is missing it, oh, if only she were here._

"Oh, good Lord. Emmett, please don't mention that insipid girl's name. Her head is so empty, I'm surprised what limited thoughts she does have don't echo."

"Edward, that's impolite."

"Sorry, Mom."

Emmett wasn't ready to let up now that he had gotten Edward to crack a smile.

_I bet that empty head of hers could come up with a thought or two involving you and that Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom._

"Emmett! Please!"

_No, no, no… She'd be thinking 'Edward! Please!'_

"Emmett, leave your brother alone."

"Sorry, Mom."

Emmett smirked at Edward. _Momma's boy._

Sitting next to Emmett, Rosalie spoke up for almost the first time since they'd arrived in Phoenix. "So, what happens now? Can we go home now? I hate it here. We're like prisoners."

Edward felt a chill run up his spine at the thought of leaving. But really, what reason was there for them to stay? They had already done what they could. Or rather, Alice and Jasper had already done what they could. He hadn't been able to do anything to help the girl.

Not. One. Single. Thing.

Esme answered Rosalie, "I suppose we'll see what Carlisle says when he and Jasper get back. There doesn't seem to be a reason to stay, and I'm sure everyone has something to get back to. Carlisle needs to get back to the hospital, and I have my farmhouse renovation."

Everyone's thoughts turned to what they had left behind. Rosalie had just acquired a 1930 Packard DeLuxe Eight Phaeton that was in sad shape, and she was looking forward to returning it to its original glory. Rosalie loved cars, especially luxury cars from the 1930's.

Edward tried very hard to stay as far away from Jasper's thoughts as possible. His mind had been filled all day with thoughts of what he wanted to do with Alice when they got back home.

All Edward wanted was to be by himself, to get away from all the voices in his head and just think, but he couldn't be by himself until he got home. Even knowing that, for some inexplicable reason every cell in his body seemed to want to root itself here and not leave. He didn't know why, but he knew he did not want to leave Phoenix. The feeling that he didn't know something he was supposed to know, something he _needed_ to know was stronger than ever, but it wasn't quite as maddening here. He felt closer to learning what it was here, and he knew that when he went back to Forks, he would be getting farther away from it again.

Unable to tolerate the thought of that, he tried to distract himself and joined the conversation his family was having. They were discussing Charlie and the girl. He asked, "Why do we do that?"

"Do what?"

"Why do we always call her _the girl_? Her name is Bella."

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(1) Affect, in this case, refers to emotional expressiveness. People with flat affect may not show the normal signs of emotion, may appear apathetic, may speak in a monotone, and may not change the expression of their emotions in response to varying situations as we expect them to. They may also appear nonresponsive to the emotions of others. When a person is described as having flat affect, this does not always imply that that he or she does not experience emotion internally. While someone who displays flat affect may not feel emotion, use of the term does not require this to be true.

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Hope you liked it! The next two chapters are two of my favorites. They're more like one really long chapter that I had to break somewhere. That break may have resulted in a bit of a cliff hanger….

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See you next Saturday!


	22. Chapter 22

Surprise! Bonus chapter! I've just been told I've been nominated for The Fic of The Week on The Lemonade Stand! One of my lovely readers nominated me, and I thank you so much, but voting is only open for two more days - it closes on July 31st. I'm trying to get the word out to ask (and by ask, understand that I mean beg on my hands and knees) for votes, so you get an extra update! Please, check out teh lemonade stand . net and vote for me for fic of the week! (Yes, I know "the" is spelled wrong, but that's the way it is in their address. I must've checked it ten times because I keep thinking I've got it wrong.) With the trouble I've had uploading, I hope it will work! Maybe at 1:00 on a Monday morning, the traffic will be lower during the day, if that's what the problem was.

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Also cause for celebration – I've passed 1000 reviews! Waaahooooo! Thank you all so much for taking the time to tell me what you think of my story! Thanks so much for reviewing!

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Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Now, who's ready to play connect the dots! (And by that, I don't mean all those annoying little periods I have to use to hold blank lines!)

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

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"Bella, baby, I really don't think this is a good idea," Renee said as Bella packed her suitcase for her trip to visit her father in Forks. She was leaving early tomorrow morning and would spend four weeks with him. "It hasn't even been two weeks yet, honey, and you're still not yourself. You need to take it easy. I really think you should stay home and rest."

Bella knew her mother meant well, and she understood she'd put her parents through hell. But she also knew that she needed to get away–and the sooner, the better. She needed a change of scenery. As silly as Bella had always thought that sounded, she understood it now. She needed distractions. All she had here were reminders. A change of scenery was exactly what she needed, and there was no greater change of scenery in the world than exchanging Phoenix for Forks.

"Mom, I'll be fine. I am fine. I promise."

After folding and placing her ratty old sweats in her suitcase, she looked over her shoulder at her mother. It broke what little was left of her heart to see the worried look on her mother's face and to know she was the one who had put it there. Going to her mother and hugging her tightly, Bella apologized yet again for what she'd put her parents through. She barely remembered those weeks. There were just a handful of random moments she was able to remember when she'd been alert enough to be aware of what had been going on around her. She'd had no idea if it had been minutes or hours or days, when actually, it had been weeks.

"Bella, sweetie, it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

Her mother was looking at her, staring into her eyes as though she was thinking that if she could just look hard enough, could just stare long enough, the answers she was looking for would appear. She looked as tired as Bella felt, and Bella was exhausted.

"I'm looking forward to going, Mom. Really. I have the books for my summer reading list. Dad has a nice little back porch. I can sit there and read. The trees behind his house are really pretty; they're so different from here. Billy's kids seemed… really… nice. Maybe I can get together with them, hang out a little. And while I'm with Dad, you'll be able to travel with Phil on his road trips. You know you'll both like that."

Bella's mind pictured those trees, tall and alive and so green, and she thought she would explore that trail a little. The idea of being alone appealed to her. She was so tired of being asked how she was and how she felt.

Her mother finally relented. This was something Bella wanted, and right now, Renee didn't think she'd be able to refuse her anything. At least Bella was showing an interest in something, which was more than she had done about anything else since she snapped out of… whatever that had been eleven days ago.

"Promise me you'll call me. Twice a day. At least."

"I promise, Mom."

Her mother hugged her again before finally leaving her alone. Once her mother was gone, Bella closed up her suitcase and put it on the floor next to her dresser. She sighed and sat down on her bed, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them. She'd never known it was possible to be in this much pain, and trying endure the pain and pretend nothing was wrong was exhausting.

More than anything, she wished she could just go back to bed and never get up again. Really, she wished she'd never had to get out of bed in the first place. The only reason she had was because during one of her more lucid moments, she'd seen her father about to open the drawer where she kept… _his_… letters.

Before that, she'd had no idea her father was even in Phoenix.

On top of the pain, she was so tired. Mentally and physically tired.

Falling back onto her bed and letting her mind drift back to wherever it had gone would be the easiest thing in the world, but she couldn't do that. She knew she couldn't. Not with what it had put her parents through the first time. It still amazed her that she'd spent four weeks in bed.

Bella squeezed her eyes shut, still waiting for the tears, but she was in so much pain she was beyond tears.

She couldn't think of anything but… _him_. She couldn't bring herself to use his name, not even in her thoughts.

The entire world seemed out to remind her of her loss. It had only been a few nights ago, while watching the evening news with her mother, that the anchorwoman had unknowingly twisted the knife a little deeper into her heart. The picture of an old man in a wheelchair and wearing a suit and tie, the left side of his suit jacket nearly completely covered with medals and a single, large red poppy on the right lapel, had appeared on the screen as the anchorwoman had led into the story. Harry Patch, Britain's last surviving soldier to have fought in the trenches of World War One had passed away at the age of one hundred and eleven.

Bella's entire body had ached; her throat had burned with the need to scream out loud, to cry out that it was unfair. This man had been born three years before... _him_. Where was the justice? Two men born only three years apart. One gets 111 years, the other only seventeen. Bella had bitten her lip so hard she'd been surprised it hadn't bled. Half of her mind had been screaming that the world was unfair, the other half had been quietly telling her she was the one being unfair–after all, the man pictured on the screen had been a hero, very much like the men… _he…_ had told her about, and he deserved every accolade and every tribute being paid to him.

But Edward had been a hero, too.

The man on the screen had risked his life fighting, as had so many others then and since. So many of them had sacrificed their lives. They were rightly recognized as national heroes. But Edward had fought too, not in the trenches, no, but in the hospital. He and so many others had risked their lives, too; he and so many others had sacrificed their lives, too. But history paid them no tribute. The world had erased their courage, their dedication and sacrifice with barely a footnote.

Bella dug her knuckles into her eyes, wishing she could bring on the tears that burned behind them but refused to fall.

Every night when her eyes closed, the nightmares started. Wherever her mind had gone for those four weeks, it had been so far away it had been beyond the nightmares. They hadn't been able to find her there. Or maybe they had, and she just couldn't remember them. But now they were making her pay for her brief respite with a vengeance.

The worst was when she had the same nightmare he'd told her he'd had about the morgue.

Out of habit, Bella ran her hand through her hair and automatically found the shorter strands at the back of her neck where she had cut a lock of her hair for him. Except they weren't that much shorter anymore. That had been four and a half months ago, and they were growing out. The difference in length was half of what it once had been.

Bella sucked in a breath as the pain soared inside her. Time was marching on and erasing the last traces of him.

She remembered how happy he'd been to know his family would go on, but it hadn't. It had ended with him. His cousin, Tommy, had carried on the family name, but his own branch of his family had ended with him. There was nothing of him left. There was nothing to show he had ever lived.

She tugged at the shortened strands of hair. Time had already erased him once, and now it was doing it again. And she was letting it. That realization shocked her, but it was true. She hadn't so much as touched her….

No–she sat up, her back straight–not _hers_. It wasn't _hers_. It was _theirs_. It was _their_ desk. And she hadn't touched it once since she'd hung up the phone from Michael.

Resolved, Bella stood up and walked the few steps to their desk. Her legs were shaking. She wasn't ready to see his letters yet, but she had to keep a piece of him with her to show time that it couldn't have him yet. It couldn't erase him until it erased her too. There was only one way she could do that. There was only one piece of him left: the lock of his hair that he'd sent her. She paused in front of their desk and closed her eyes. After a moment, Bella opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the top drawer on the right.

There, she saw two velvet boxes, one in deep red and one in grey. Under the boxes was a card in an envelope. She didn't open the card up. She wasn't ready to see his writing, but she couldn't keep the image of her birthday card out of her head. On the cover was a beautiful deep pink rose in full bloom in a bud vase trimmed with gold. At the bottom of the vase laid another rose closed in a tight bud with purple flowers scattered around. The vase sat in front of an open window, and the background beyond the window was a muted scene of trees, blue sky, and golden sunlight. Inside was printed "May your birthday be bright and happy. Many happy returns." Beneath that he had written, "Happy -75th Birthday. Health and happiness to you with all my heart, Edward."

Her breath caught painfully in her throat at just the memory of his writing, his signature, his words, and Bella forced herself to take several slow, deep breaths.

When she was able to breathe normally, she braced herself on their desk with one hand and picked up the deep red box with the other. Opening the box revealed a beautiful gold locket set with an oval cabochon garnet. His birthday gift to her. Since she didn't have a picture of him, she'd put the lock of his hair inside.

The other box contained an emerald cut aquamarine, set in a gold frame with rose gold flowers trailing along it on a thin gold chain. It had come shortly after she'd told him she'd wanted to buy a necklace for her mother for her to wear at her wedding. The note that came with it read, "For the bride, something old and something blue."

Biting her lip against the pain, Bella took the locket out of the box, put it on, and returned the box to the drawer. The weight of it against her chest felt like an anchor keeping the pain from sweeping her away. She held the locket tightly in her hand and looked at her reflection in the mirror before closing her eyes and pressing a kiss to the back of the locket and tucking it under her shirt.

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.oOo. .oOo.

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"Edward, don't go."

"I have to, Esme. You know that. Bella is going to be here in a few hours, and I can't risk being anywhere near her." Edward looked at his adoptive mother, and his stone heart cracked. The look of worry on her face was the same as the one she had worn all those decades ago when he'd made the greatest mistake of his existence. He shuddered and pushed the memories aside. It would not do to remember the taste of human blood when Bella would soon be here. "Esme, please, don't worry. I'm not leaving. I'm just going away for a little while. I'm just going on an extended hunting trip with Kate, Carmen, and Eleazar. I won't be that far, and I won't be gone that long. Only a month. I promise. Only until Bella goes back to Phoenix."

A small lopsided smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Bella's healthy, smiling face appeared in his mind, and for a few seconds, it was all he could think of.

Misunderstanding the expression on his face, Esme'e eyes lit up, and she smiled widely as the image of him and Kate holding hands formed in her mind. Edward sighed. He hated having to disappoint her, but Kate was no more his mate than Tanya had been. He zipped his backpack and kissed her on the forehead.

"You have your phone? You'll call, right?"

"Yes, _Mom_. I promise. Twice a day if you'd like."

Esme held him tightly before they went downstairs together where the whole family was waiting for them.

_I really don't think this is necessary, Edward. I don't see you hurting the girl._

"Her name is Bella, Alice."

Rosalie rolled her eyes in annoyance, but he could hear in her thoughts that even with as jealous as she was of Bella for being human, she was glad she was getting better. Rosalie appeared cold and unfeeling to those who didn't know her, but Edward did know her, and he knew she was neither cold nor unfeeling. She loved her family fiercely and would fight just as fiercely to protect them. People saw her and only saw a conceited, self-centered beauty. It was the mask she wore to keep people out, to keep them from getting close enough to hurt her. Inside she was scared and insecure.

During each of their transformations, any physical scars they'd had were healed, but Rosalie's scars weren't physical. Inside, she still bore the scars of her last hour as a human and the ultimate betrayal she'd suffered at the hands of the man who'd been supposed to love, honor, and cherish her. Decades later, those scars were still raw.

Jasper was mentally reciting Jefferson Davis' inaugural speech again. In French this time.

Emmett was grinning at him. "Save me a grizzly or two, little brother. Me and Rosie might head up for a week or two. Do some skiing down Denali, maybe a snow ball fight on a glacier. How 'bout it?"

Trying to show enthusiasm he did not feel, Edward said, "Yeah. Sure, Em. Sounds good."

Carlisle and Esme walked with Edward a few miles into the woods behind their house. With every step he took, Edward knew he was walking farther away from the answers he was growing desperate for, but it couldn't be helped. He had to leave to keep Bella safe. Nothing in the world was more important than keeping Bella safe.

"Give the Denalis our regards. Alice says there're some sunny days coming. Maybe we'll all head up for a visit."

Edward dropped his backpack to the ground and bent over with his hands on his knees. Looking around the woods he was so familiar with, he felt like he'd never seen them before. He needed to ask Carlisle to take care of Bella, but he couldn't find the words. What right did he even have to ask it? He was nothing to her.

But she was becoming more and more important to him. She was becoming everything to him.

In truth, she already had.

Esme placed her hand on his shoulder, and Carlisle stood behind her. "What is it, dearest?" she asked. "Please, talk to us."

After several minutes, Edward screamed in frustration and vented that frustration by kicking and pushing over several of the nearest trees. He was breathing in pained gasps standing in the middle of the destruction and sat down on one of the fallen trees with his head in his hands. Finally, he spoke, "I really do believe I am going insane."

Carlisle and Esme sat on either side of him in quiet support, their thoughts full of nothing but unconditional support for their oldest son. Edward stood back up and paced back and forth, trying and failing several times to put his feelings into words.

The sense that he had known Charlie before coming to Forks and the need he felt to protect Bella were overwhelming. He was certain the two were connected, but he didn't know how. Edward ran his hand over his face and through his hair roughly before taking a deep breath and trying again. "It's about Charlie… and Bella. I think…. I _know _I recognize Charlie from somewhere, but I _can't remember where_…. It's not someone else very like him, nor is it him from somewhere else. It's him, and it is from here and now, and Bella is connected to that… somehow. When I first saw the picture of her and her father together from when she was here at Easter in Tanya's mind… I felt like…. I can't tell you how I felt. _I_ don't even know how I felt. But that picture… of Charlie and Bella together… it's important.

"It's not just Charlie. It's Bella, too. Honestly, it's her even more. It's Bella. _I know her_."

Edward didn't understand until he said it out loud, but the moment he did he realized that was exactly it. He'd been looking at this backwards. He'd known he hadn't actually _known_ Charlie, but he was sure he had _known of _him through someone else. That someone had been Bella. It was Bella he had known. He'd only known of Charlie through Bella. That was why it was so vital to him that he help her last month. He knew her. But that was impossible. He'd never meet her before. If he had….

He didn't want to think of what would happen if he ever met her. Even now, his throat burned and his mouth filled with venom at just the memory of her scent.

"Edward?"

"Carlisle… please. _Father, please_, you _have_ to help her. _Please_… Take care of her, _please_. She's… important."

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Only one other time had his son begged him for something so desperately. Carlisle pushed the memory aside. Edward did not like to be reminded of the human life he couldn't remember.

"Of course, Edward. You have my word."

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.oOo. .oOo.

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Edward wanted to be by himself. He needed to have his head to himself to think. He was now as certain that he had somehow known Bella before as he was of his own name.

He was equally as sure that it was wholly impossible.

"Dearest, what is it? You seem so lost. Like you're a million miles away."

Edward shook his head and looked at Esme sadly. "It's nothing. I was just…. No, it's impossible. It never happened. It can never happen." He picked up his backpack again and kissed her cheek before nodding to Carlisle. "I have to get going. They're expecting me. I'll see you as soon as Bella goes back to Arizona." Without another word and without looking back, Edward ran through the woods.

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Carlisle and Esme watched him go and stood there quietly for a few moments. When Esme looked at her mate, he was staring at the path their son had just taken with a look of pure astonishment on his face.

"Carlisle? What is it?" she asked.

"Phoenix is in_ Arizona_. The girl… _Bella_…. she lives _in Arizona."_

Esme was confused. What her mate was saying was common knowledge, but he was saying it like it was a revelation. "What are you talking about?"

"Her name was _Bella… _she lived in _Arizona_… _with her mother_…. Her parents were _divorced. _They wrote to each other, but _they_ _never met._"

Carlisle sat in the same spot Edward had moments earlier and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back to a time ninety years ago. "A different world," he mumbled. His hands were folded together in front of his face as if in prayer.

Esme knelt in front of him with her hands on his knees. "Who wrote to each other?" 

Opening his eyes, Carlisle spoke to her, "'Do you think it is possible for the impossible to happen?' Edward…. He asked me that once. When he was human. Shortly after I met him. He was lost in thought, like he was just now. I told him he looked a million miles away. When you said the same thing just now, it reminded me. I asked him what was on his mind. 'Dr. Cullen, do you think it is possible for the impossible to happen?' Those were his exact words. I remember, he looked like he'd seen a ghost. He seemed surprised to realize he had spoken the words out loud. He actually groaned."

Carlisle replayed all the conversations he'd had with Edward that summer in his mind with perfect clarity, as if only minutes had passed instead of nearly a century. So many of the things he'd asked, so many of his comments had seemed odd at the time, but if what Carlisle was beginning to suspect was true really was, they hadn't been odd at all. They'd made perfect sense.

If what Carlisle suspected was true really was, _everything_ made perfect sense. From Edward's odd déjà vu and his obviously rapidly growing concern for the girl–for _Bella–_to the girl's–_Bella–_, being a shield and able to block him fully, the only one _ever _to be able to do so.

He grasped Esme's hands as hope filled him. "Esme, when Edward was human, he had a friend named Bella who lived in Arizona. They wrote to each other, but they never met. Her parents were divorced, and she lived with her mother in Arizona. It was obvious he was in love with her.

"Her name…. He was so very sick. He had very few lucid moments, but when he did, he tried to say her name. His throat was so inflamed, he only managed to say, "Bell," before the coughing would start. So many times he tried to say her name…. His poor mother thought his ears were ringing, that he thought he heard bells. Her name was the last word he ever spoke as a human."

"You think this girl reminds him of the girl he loved then? There are certainly similarities. Might this mean that his human memories are beginning to resurface after all these years? That the right catalyst might help him to remember?"

"No. I don't believe that is it. I think that this girl _is_ the girl he loved then." Carlisle steepled his fingers together and leaned his forehead against them. "There were so many times he would say something or ask me something that seemed strange. Esme… I think he's right. I think he did know the girl… Bella… I think he did know Bella before. I think…. It's impossible, but I think somehow Charlie's Bella was the girl he told me about. I think they somehow found each other. I believe they fell in love. But he forgot her. In the end, the fever and the drugs took her from him, just like they took everything else."

Esme looked doubtful. He wasn't surprised; what he was thinking was impossible. _"__I suppose a thing is only impossible until someone does it."_ Those were the words he'd said to Edward ninety-one years ago.

Growing excited, he retook her hands in his and spoke rapidly, "As I said, it was clear he was in love with her, but he said there could never be anything between them because…. Oh, dear Lord. He said they were 'from very different worlds.' I assumed he was referring to her being from the West, or her parents' divorce, or that she wasn't from his social circle, which frankly surprised me. His mother's family was not of the same circle as his father's, and he did not seem like the type of young man who would let that stand in his way if he really loved the girl. But what if he meant they were from different_ centuries_? His human world was certainly a very different world from hers.

"He asked me… about the supernatural. He asked me if I believed in soul mates, if I believed in miracles. He asked me what good a miracle was if it only showed him what he could never have? I thought he was speaking figuratively, but what if he wasn't? What if he was speaking literally? What if this was the miracle he was referring to–that somehow, he and Bella had found each other? That somehow, the intervening decades hadn't separated them? He said eveb if he lived to be a hundred he could never have it. Those were his words. Ninety one years ago, those were his exact words. 'If I live to be a hundred.' I didn't realize…. I never dreamed…. He was seventeen, and I believed he was exaggerating–not that he was prone to it. But now… _now_ I believe he was speaking very literally. If he _had_ lived, and lived to be one hundred, Bella would still have been only a small child, and he an old man.

"The look on his face as he questioned me was heartbreaking. It was exactly the same as it was before he left just now. He looked like a man who had just been given his greatest wish, his greatest hope and dream, and had it immediately ripped from him forever."

"Carlisle, this simply isn't possible."

"Esme, he told me she told him about things _before they happened._ I believed him–I had to. He was afraid I wouldn't, of course, but I couldn't not believe him, he spoke so truthfully. I simply thought his friend must have a gift, granted, a very powerful one. I knew vampires who had gifts, so why couldn't a human? He gave me examples, the assassination of Czar Nicholas and the sinking of the Carpathia. He told me she'd told him about them both three weeks before they happened. And the flu. The epidemic that ended his human life. She told him about it a few days before the second wave began. It was too much for him to bear alone, and it was then that he confided in me.

"Esme, he told me her letter was wet with her tears. Why did I not see the significance of that statement? How could her letter still have been wet with her tears several days after she wrote it? Over and over, he stressed to me the importance of washing my hands to prevent the spread of the flu. We didn't know that then. They stressed covering your face when you sneezed or coughed. You remember, they gave numerous recommendations, but washing your hands wasn't one of them. He gave me the exact details she'd told him. He was right. _She_ was right. _Exactly right. _In _every_ instance. Of course she was. She wasn't telling him what _would_ happen. She was telling him what, for her, _had already _happened."

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

"Bella, it's so good to have you here. Your father hasn't talked about anything else." Bella managed to give her father's girlfriend a small smile, and the woman took her arm and leaned closer like she was going to tell her a secret. Bella really, really hoped if she was, that it wouldn't be a secret about her father. That would be So Very Wrong. "I feel I should warn you," Tanya said, "my cousin, Alice, is a little excited about your coming, and an excited Alice is not something to be taken lightly. We call her our little Pixie. She lives for clothes and shopping. She doesn't have any friends in town, and she gets bored with just her sister, mother, and myself. She's looking forward to hopefully having a new shopping partner."

"I'm not really much of a shopper."

Tanya's face fell, and Bella felt guilty the moment the words were out of her mouth. She wished she could take them back. The older woman looked so disappointed. Her cousin had no friends in town and had been nice enough to lend Bella Forks-appropriate clothes over Easter and again now, but Bella really didn't think she could handle a shopaholic in a mall. Putting on a brave face and forcing herself to act as normally as possible despite the constant pain was hard enough just around the house;in a mall with a shopaholic it would be more than she could manage. She offered, "Maybe we could go to a movie or something instead."

"I'm sure she'd like that." Tanya smiled radiantly at her, and for a moment Bella forgot what they were talking about.

Her father came up to them with her luggage, and they headed to the car. "Looks like you brought the sun with you, Bells. They're calling for clear skies all weekend." Bella rolled her eyes but tried to act happy. It was still cold, even if it wasn't raining, and from what she saw when she looked the weather up online, the next week would be below average. Average being only about seventy.

Too bad it wasn't last summer. They'd actually broken a record high temperature last August. It had hit eighty-four. _Eighty-four_. In _August_. Wahoo.

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

"Bella?" Tanya knocked lightly on Bella's bedroom door the next morning, hoping to wake her gently. All night long she'd listened helplessly from the trees as the poor girl tossed and turned through nightmare after nightmare, and she was having another one now. If this was a nightly occurrence, it was no wonder the poor girl looked like she was ready to drop. She quietly opened the door, went in, and sat on the edge of her bed. "Bella? Sweetheart, wake up."

"No…. Stop…."

"Bella. It's OK, honey. It's just a bad dream."

Tanya laid her hand on Bella's shoulder and gently shook her awake. The result shocked her.

"Edward! No! " Bella awoke with a frantic, wide-eyed expression on her face and reaching her hand out as if desperately trying to grab a hold of something. Instead of relief, the expression on her face slowly changed to one of overwhelming pain and loss as she seemed to realize it had only been a dream, and she was now awake.

Tanya looked up as Charlie appeared behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Bella timidly looked over at her and then up at her father. She looked back down at her hands before she spoke, "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't wake you."

Charlie's voice was soft when he spoke to his daughter, but he was gripping Tanya's shoulders so tightly that if she'd been human it would've hurt, "Bells, don't be sorry."

Tanya stood as Bella started to push her quilt off. "I made muffins, Bella. Apple cinnamon. Whole grain. Or I can make you an omelet, or French toast. Whatever you'd like."

Without looking at Tanya or her father, Bella quickly and quietly answered that the muffins would be fine, and that she was going to take a shower.

They watched as she gathered her things and left the room. Once she was gone, Tanya described Bella's reaction when she woke up. "Who's Edward?" she asked. "Did Renee ever mention a boy? Do you think she had a boyfriend no one knew about and that they broke up?"

Tanya didn't say it, but the way Bella had screamed "No!" in absolute terror, she hoped a bad break up was all the poor girl had been through.

But, Tanya thought to herself, she had definitely been reaching _for_ something, not pushing it away.

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

Charlie was looking at the door worriedly. Could that be it? A girl in a neighboring community had committed suicide last year after her boyfriend had broken up with her. He knew that if Bella had had a boyfriend, but hadn't said anything to her mother about him, she certainly wouldn't talk to him about it. Would she talk to Tanya? Or better….

"Alice. Girls talk about boys. Do you think she'd talk to Alice? Someone her own… another girl?"

They agreed it was worth a try.

Charlie felt guilty, but they needed to know if there was a boy involved, and while Bella was in the shower the cop in him took over and he checked her cell phone. It had barely been used. All but three of the calls were to or from him, and there were no texts at all. That certainly seemed to rule out a boyfriend. He was just hanging up from Rene when Bella came downstairs. She'd checked their computer but had found no e-mails, and the only websites Bella'd been on were all on an old, long forgotten epidemic she'd, for some reason, taken to studying religiously. It didn't look like she'd met anyone on-line either then.

Still, just to be sure, he decided he'd make a few phone calls, call in a few favors and get someone who really knew what they were doing to do one of those search things he'd learned about in a cyber-bullying seminar last year.

When he entered the kitchen, Bella was sitting at the table and idly picking apart a muffin with a completely blank expression on her face.

If some bastard had hurt his little girl, Charlie swore to himself he'd find him and string him up by his balls.

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

At noon there was a knock on the door. Charlie answered it. Standing there with several shopping bags in each hand and excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet was Alice Cullen. "Hiya, Charlie! Is she here? Can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, Alice danced around him and in the door.

"Sure Alice, come on in." Charlie shook his head fondly after her. Alice was one of the sweetest people he'd ever known. He turned to close the door and noticed that the clouds were beginning to thin. It looked like they'd have a sunny afternoon, just as the weatherman had called for. With his eyes darting quickly between Tanya and Alice in the kitchen and back at the sky, he shut the door and closed the blinds on the living room window.

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

Bella's first impression of Alice Cullen was that of a beautiful butterfly. She was tiny. She was also stunningly beautiful and… energetic. She fluttered around the kitchen with a grace that Bella couldn't help but envy and with an energy that wore her out just to watch. Bella's impression of her changed from that of a beautiful butterfly, to a beautiful butterfly on speed.

She'd been right. A movie was definitely better. There would be no way she could keep up with this girl in a mall.

"...so, since the movie is at 3:30, I thought I should come over with some things now. It doesn't really give us much time, but I thought you'd like to sleep in."

_Not much time? How late did I sleep?_ Bella looked at the clock on the wall and noticed for the first time that the previously bright yellow cabinets were now a warm, rich shade of dark beige. Instead of white, the walls were now soft sage green, and the old, chipped Formica countertop had been replaced with stone. _I have to make more of an effort to pay attention to things. How could I not have noticed the kitchen was entirely different as soon as I walked in the room?_

Hesitantly, Tanya asked, "Bella? Do you not like it? I know your mother picked out the yellow."

"No. I…. It's beautiful. The yellow was… a bit much. This… is warm."

Tanya seemed to glow at her approval of the changes to the kitchen. "I didn't want to replace the cabinets. They're original to the house. I just wish he would've let me get all new appliances, too. These must be over twenty years old. Maybe you can help me work on him."

Bella watched as Tanya put her arms lovingly around her father, and she stiffened as the pain flared inside her at seeing the love between them.

Tanya and Alice suddenly turned almost as one and looked out the kitchen window, then at her, then at each other. Alice stepped forward. "Come on. How about we get up stairs and get your make over started?"

_Wait. What makeover?_

That night, Bella sat cross legged on her bed waiting for her mother to answer the phone.

"Bella? Hey baby, how was your first full day in Forks? You know, we can change your return date if you want to come home sooner."

She sighed tiredly. "No, Mom. I don't want to leave early. It's… not so bad here. Really. The sun was even out most of the afternoon. The clouds only moved back in about an hour ago."

"The sun? In _Forks?_ I don't believe it."

"Believe it."

Of course, even with the sun the temperature had only reached the mid-sixties.

"Soooo, what'd you do?"

"Tanya's cousin, Alice, came over. The one I told you about. The one who lent me the clothes."

"Annnnd? What did you two do?"

"Went to a movie. Just got back about a half hour ago."

"Forks has a movie theater now? That's more than they had when I was there."

"No. It's in Port Angeles. It's new. Very Olympic Peninsula appropriate. Connecting doors in the lobby lead to the underground parking lot and to two restaurants. You never have to go outside."

"_Bella!_ I'm surprised at you. You had a sunny day _in Forks_ and you spent it _indoors_?"

Bella tried to drag out the conversation with her mother as long as possible, but it was hard. She was a quiet person by nature, and really, she hadn't even been gone two full days yet and this was already the fourth time they'd spoken. There just wasn't that much to catch up on. That didn't stop her mother, though. Unlike Bella, she was a born talker. She was in Ohio on her first away trip with Phil, and Bella got every bit of gossip and every detail of every moment of her day whether she wanted it or not.

Still though, gossip she wasn't interested in about people she didn't know was better than what awaited her when she went to sleep. Last night had been particularly bad. She'd had nightmares all night long, ending with the nightmare about the morgue again. She'd been running down a long hall after a man pushing… him… on a gurney and screaming at him to stop. She could see… his… chest rising and falling under the bloody sheet they'd covered him with. Why the hell couldn't anyone else? There'd been dozens of people around, just like always, but also just like always, no one had noticed he was alive or heard her screaming. Just like always, they'd been too overwhelmed with the sheer number of sick to even have time to spare a glance at someone once they'd had a sheet drawn over them. And just like always, the harder she'd run, the farther behind she'd seemed to fall. She'd screamed again in desperation at the man's back and had tried to lunge at him just as the end of the gurney pushed open the swinging double doors under the word MORGUE.

That was when she'd woken up to find Tanya and her father next to her bed.

She'd been mortified. She didn't think she made any noise when she had her nightmares. Her mother had been watching over her like a hawk since she woke up a week and a half ago, and if she hadn't woken her mother up yet, she _couldn't_ have been making any noise. Last night had been the worst night so far, though, so maybe she had.

Sitting on her bed, Bella traced the stitched pattern on her old quilt as her mother prattled on about what and who Bella had no idea. She was just grateful to have a reason to not go to bed yet.

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

That night, Tanya was joined in her nightly vigil in the trees by both Alice and Jasper. Alice had taken a real interest in Bella since spending time with her that day, and where Alice went, Jasper went. As far as they could tell, Bella had yet to have a nightmare, but she'd only been asleep for about an hour. If last night had been any indication, they'd be starting soon.

"Jasper, how is she really?" Tanya asked.

Jasper pulled his eyes away from the house. "She's the same as she was in Phoenix. She's still in the same pain she was in before. There's no change."

"But, she's awake. Alert."

"She's forcing herself to go through the motions." The soldier in him was clearly audible in the respect his voice held for a fighter. "She must be exceptionally strong willed."

Alice's eyes appeared to lose their focus momentarily before she gasped and buried her face against Jasper's shoulder. Jasper enclosed her in his arms and met Tanya's frightened eyes. "Alice? Darlin', what is it?"

"Jaz, we have to do something. And fast. She doesn't have much time."

Tanya's eyes darted between Alice and the house in fear. "What do you mean, Alice? She doesn't have much time before what?"

"It's too much. It's too much. She can't fight it much longer."

The pain Jasper felt from Alice matched the pain he felt from the girl, and then there was the fear. Jasper held her by her shoulders, and she met his eyes. "Alice, what did you see?"

"Bella… she can't hold out much longer."

"Against what? Alice, what did you see?"

"The pain. It's like you said Jaz; she trying to fight it, but it's too much. She's fighting it, but she's going to lose." Alice could still see the image perfectly. Bella lying in a hospital bed, perfectly still, on a feeding tube, hooked up by wires to beeping monitors, and looking barely alive. The image was strong and clear, surprisingly so since Bella was human, and Alice had only just met her that day. If someone didn't do something and soon, it would happen. There was no doubt. "She's going to relapse. Only it's going to be worse, much worse, and she won't come out of it this time. The pain. It's going to destroy her."

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

Edward had been sitting on this very spot for five days. He only knew how long he'd been there because he'd watched as the sun had set and risen again, and then set and risen again four more times. He was somewhere in the Coastal Mountains in southeast Alaska. He didn't know or care exactly where. What did it really matter? He only knew he was far enough away from the nearest town that he could stay right here indefinitely without having to move so much as an inch, and the humans would never see him.

That was exactly what he wanted right now. To not have to move.

It seemed he wasn't going to get what he wanted, though. He heard their minds plotting less than a second before he heard them attempting to sneak up on him, followed immediately by the sound of the air being disturbed. He moved forward two feet, and five snowballs coming from five different directions collided exactly where his head had been moments ago.

"Nice try," he said.

Emmett, Rosalie, Kate, Carmen, and Eleazar appeared beside him.

"No fair. You cheated. I'm telling Mom."

"It's not my fault you can't keep quiet."

Kate sat beside him. Aside from him, she was the only single one left. He wished he felt differently. Their families would be so happy. He wished he was interested in her romantically. But he just wasn't, nor was she interested in him.

She said, "Alice called and said you'd be a little late. That was five days ago. We thought we better come and find you in case you got lost."

"I'm sorry. It was abominably rude of me. Please forgive me."

She placed her hand on his arm. _You can talk to us, Edward. You don't have to keep it all bottled up. We're your family, and we love you. Whatever is bothering you so badly, we'll work it out._

Edward took her hand and kissed it before standing. "I don't know about you all, but I'm thirsty. Let's go bag us some bears." He took off running through the trees, and his brother, sister, and cousins shared a brief glance at each other before following him.

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

"So, is Forks driving you insane yet?"

Rachel smacked her brother on the back of the head, and as soon as Jacob realized what he'd said, he was stammering and trying to apologize.

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Great. Really."

"I really am sorry, Bella. It was a stupid thing to say. I don't know what I was thinking."

"No worries. I'm not a china doll. I won't break. I promise."

Jacob smiled at her. He really liked Bella. Not a china doll…. _Please_. He remembered how she had told him off in no uncertain terms the last time she'd been here. He was nearly a foot taller than her, and he knew he looked like an NFL lineman. They all did. Grown men were known to blanch and step back subconsciously when any of them approached. But she hadn't. She'd gotten right up in his face and had just about ripped his head off.

He admired her for it, even if she was completely misguided.

No, Bella was certainly no china doll. But there was no mistaking the fact that the girl who sat here now was not the same girl who'd been here in April. She had the look about her of someone who had been seriously ill for a long time, which, of course, she had been. She'd been pale in April, but now she was nearly translucent. She'd lost weight she couldn't afford to have lost, and she sat hunched over, her shoulders slumped.

Charlie had told Billy that she had woken up the first morning she was here from a nightmare and had said the name Edward. There were a couple thousand kids in her school back in Phoenix, and there were three Edwards in her year alone. Jacob knew Bella's mother had spoken to her teachers, but there was no indication she'd been involved with any of them.

Jacob felt his hackles rise, and he flexed his fingers. If they found out some boy had hurt her, he'd find him and rip him to shreds.

He smirked at the thought. He may not be able to actually rip the bastard to shreds, but he could certainly scare the shit out of him.

.

o

.oOo. .oOo.

o

.

"Wanna go for a walk down by the beach?" Jacob asked out of the blue.

Bella readily agreed, even though she didn't really want to go. She hadn't really wanted to come here today either. The last time she'd been here didn't go so well. If it had been up to only her, she'd be sitting in her dad's back yard with a blanket and a book. And maybe a muffin.

But the Mariners' game was coming on soon, and she wanted to be anywhere but here when it did. She needed to stay away from reminders, and baseball was one of the biggest reminders there was.

Distractions did seem to help. The first night here had been horrible, but she hadn't had a single nightmare since. Not being so desperately tired all the time made it a little easier to make herself get through the day. Since going to the movie together on her first full day here, she'd seen Alice Cullen again twice. Both times she'd brought more shopping bags full of clothes for her to try on and gave her another make over. Both times the clothes she'd brought had been left behind when she'd gone home. There were now more clothes in her room here than there were in her room in Phoenix, and she'd only be here for a month. Bella didn't really enjoy playing dress up, but she didn't enjoy anything, so what did it matter? It was just another distraction. It did seem to make Alice happy though, and someone might as well be happy, even if it couldn't be her.

Instead of the rez's main road, which led passed the Black's house, they took a well-worn shortcut that led from behind the makeshift garage/work shop. The path took them through a densely wooded area, and despite its being completely clear of vegetation from obviously having been walked countless times, the ground itself was an obstacle course of uneven ground, rocks, and roots. It was a death trap for someone as clumsy as Bella, and her focus was so fully on where she was stepping and trying not to fall that she completely missed what Jacob was saying.

"Bella? Did you hear me?"

"Sorry. What?"

He started laughing, but she didn't dare look up to see what was so funny. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Walking. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're expecting the ground to jump up and grab you."

"It does that sometimes. Believe me."

Jacob laughed harder.

"Yeah, laugh all you want. You won't be laughing when you have to carry me back to your father's house because I tripped and broke my leg."

Bella was surprised when he took her arm and wrapped it around his own.

"Lean on me, Bella. I won't let you fall. I promise." His voice was so deep and held such meaning that though Bella hadn't intended to, she looked up involuntarily. No sooner were her eyes off the path than she did in fact trip, but Jacob's grip on her arm tightened so quickly and so firmly that he steadied her easily, and she barely stumbled. He smiled at her. Time seemed to slow down, and Bella lost herself in that smile. It was amazingly nice to be this close to Jacob. It was nice to feel his warmth next to her. Jacob was handsome and strong and charming, and he was still smiling at her like….

He was smiling at her the same way she smiled when she got a new letter from… _him_.

The moment passed for Bella as quickly as it had come. Yes, Jacob was handsome and strong and charming. And he was _here._ He belonged in her time and to her world. He was all those things. But Jacob wasn't…. Jacob wasn't _him. _

Bella was no expert on guys, but judging by the smile that still lit up his face Jacob would be happy to help her pass the time for the rest of her visit. But she couldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair to him. It would mean something to him that it could never mean to her, and it would be wrong to pretend otherwise, to lead him on. For her, it really would be nothing but a way to pass the time. Her heart was and always would be _his._ As melodramatic as she knew it sounded, Bella knew in her very soul that she had already found her one true love. Miracles like the one they'd experienced simply didn't happen for no reason.

It had been like… like they were intended for each other all along, but by some great cosmic cock up, they'd been born nearly a century apart, and the miracle they'd experienced was The Powers That Be's way of saying, "Oops, our bad. It's not much, but here, take this."

They'd been blessed to have what little time together they'd had. It would just have to be enough.

_At least… At least he hadn't had to go through that last month alone. _

Time returned to normal, and Bella untwined her arm from Jacob's, and the smile slowly slid from his face as she said, "Thanks, Jake. You're a great friend to have."

They walked another few minutes through the woods before breaking through and arriving at the beach. She'd been to this beach several times with her father when she was younger, but she'd never appreciated how beautiful it was til now. She'd been to beaches in southern California with her mother, but La Push beach was so different from those it was almost alien. Beaches in California were wide open and crammed packed at the same time. They were hot and sunny. But although they were beautiful, they were artificial. They were silicon-implanted, liposuctioned, spray tanned, and designer bikinis that you didn't dare actually get wet. The beach at La Push was a mile-long crescent surrounded by ancient forest with a thin strip of sandy beach that led to large stones in every color imaginable and weathered smooth over countless years. The water was a cool steel grey with white capped-waves, and there were huge piles of driftwood that looked like the strewn remains of long extinct animals marking the high tide line.

The La Push beach looked today exactly as it had for generations. It looked the same as it always had. It looked the same as it had when Jacob's grandparents stood here, and it would look the same when his own grandchildren stood here. This was a place where the passing of time meant nothing. This was a place where you could believe in magic.

As Bella stepped into the sunshine, she closed her eyes and raised her face to the sky. It was only in the high sixties, but the sun still felt good on her skin. Not that she was counting, but in less than two weeks, this was already the sixth time she'd seen the sun. That wasn't so very bad. A person could learn to live with that, she thought. Aloud, she said, "You know, this would be the perfect place for a ghost story."

"Do you like ghost stories?"

"I like any kind of story, really. I'm not picky. I love to read."

Jacob looked around with his forehead creased like he was considering something.

"You're really lucky, Jacob. You know that?"

He looked surprised. "How so?"

"You have a real connection here. This place, it's magical. And it's part of you. Where you're standing right now, your grandparents stood right there once and probably their grandparents before them and probably your grandchildren after you. It's like you're a link in a chain. It must be nice."

Jacob looked away and mumbled something she couldn't make out, and they walked along the sand for a while. "Do you only like written stories, or do you like oral stories, too?"

"Oral stories? It's been a long time since anyone told me a story. Actually, I can't remember anyone ever telling me a story. I mean, my parents read stories to me when I was little, yeah, but telling me a story, I don't think so."

"I'd like to tell you a story."

"Really? I'd like that."

As they walked along the beach together, Jacob told her the legends of his tribe. He skimmed over a few, one of which dated all the way back to the Flood and told of the ancient Quileutes tying their canoes to the tops of trees to survive. For the last one he went into detail, and Bella was completely drawn in. Jacob was a captivating story teller. His voice as he spoke held almost a reverence. It was clear that to him this wasn't just a story or a legend like the others, he believed every word, and she didn't dare interrupt. After he finished the story, they walked in silence a while longer, Bella thinking about what he'd just told her, while Jacob watched her closely

As they walked they approached a group of kids on the beach, but Bella was so lost in thought she didn't notice until a football came sailing toward them. She startled as Jacob leapt like a deer and easily caught the ball. He tossed the ball back to a blonde boy with spiked hair. "Hey, thanks, man," the boy called out. Jacob didn't answer him. He merely nodded at him, and the blonde boy backed off, returning quickly to his friends. There was a group of at least fifteen kids. Several of the boys were playing football, and there was a group of girls watching them. Still others were building a bonfire, and some were arranging chairs and coolers around the soon-to-be bonfire.

Bella looked out at the waves, her mind returning to the story Jacob had told her, when she heard her name called questioningly. "Bella?" She turned to see a tall girl with long dark hair coming toward them. "Bella, hi. I thought it was you. I'm Angela Weber. We met at Easter."

"Oh, right. Angela. Of course, I remember." Bella was surprised Angela remembered her, and she introduced Jacob to the other girl. The two girls talked for a few moments and were soon joined by some of the others including the blonde boy with the football, who made the inevitable Forks to Phoenix comparison.

The bonfire started to catch, and it drew Bella's attention. Jacob noticed the look of awe on her face and grinned. "You've never seen a driftwood fire before have you?"

Without taking her eyes from the fire she shook her head. "We don't get a lot of driftwood in Phoenix. It's _blue._"

"It's from the salt. The wood absorbs the saltwater, and when it dries out, the salt remains."

"It's _amazing._"

Bella and Jacob were invited to join their picnic: Bella by all the boys and Jacob by all the girls. Bella accepted for them both. Things were getting a bit too heavy with the seriousness with which he obviously took the legend he'd just told her about his tribe, and being around other kids would hopefully lighten things up a bit.

Plus, it would keep her occupied until the baseball game was over.

She noticed that Jacob didn't seem overly thrilled about hanging out with them, but she hoped the way the girls were eyeing him up would help him get over it.

It didn't take long for the way the boys were eyeing _her_ up to get on Bella's nerves. It was irritating; she felt like the shiny new toy at recess in first grade.

Blonde-boy-with-football, who'd introduced himself as Mike, sat on one side of her, and a boy named Tyler sat on her other side. Tyler was telling her all about his best moments on the basketball court while Mike was telling her all about his worst. A boy whose name was Eric sat a little distance away alternately smiling at her and scowling at both Mike and Tyler. And there were still others who were trying to look like they weren't paying attention but who kept looking over at her and would make a comment now and then. It was surreal. At home, she'd have to spontaneously combust for the boys at school to even notice she was in the room.

Well, she'd wanted distractions, and being the focus of group of boys was definitely distracting.

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Tanya was not happy. Her mate, the mutt, and the mutt's father went on a camping and fishing trip every August to the Lake Quinault area for a few nights, and that's where they were now. She, on the other hand, was in British Columbia hunting with her family.

Hundreds of miles away.

"I don't know about this. Maybe I should go back," she said.

"Tanya, you need to hunt."

"I can hunt just fine closer to Charlie."

The forecast was calling for four days in a row of sunshine, otherwise known as four days in a row she had to stay away from Charlie. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

"Charlie's fine," Carlisle assured her.

"You don't know that. Alice can't see him when he's with the dogs."

"Tanya, he'll be fine. It's only four days. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Hunt."

"You don't understand. None of your mates are human. You don't understand how very breakable they are. I should go back." Resolved, Tanya rose to leave.

"Tanya, you _can't_. You know that."

"Yes I can. I can stay hidden. I've done it before."

Carlisle tried to reason with her. "You've hidden deep in the woods behind his house with very few other humans around. There will be humans everywhere, the campgrounds, the lake, the hiking trails. It's too crowded, and the trees are too sparse. You could be seen. It's too dangerous, for Charlie as well."

Tanya was forced to accept that it just wasn't possible, and she sat back down to mope until she could see Charlie again.

"You're as bad as Edward over there. He's barely spoken a word in days," Kate chided her playfully.

Edward sat several hundred yards off by himself with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, staring up at the sun and ignoring his family as much as possible. Never before had he minded his single status like he did now. He supposed that was why Jasper was working so hard to block his thoughts from him, no sense in having his misery broadcast back to him. Between Tanya and himself, Edward thought, Jasper must be at his wits end. Carlisle and Esme were also being very guarded with their thoughts and hadn't let Bella or Charlie enter their minds once other than unavoidable, fleeting images of Charlie when Tanya spoke about him.

Truth be told, when Tanya had risen to leave, he'd been ready to go with her. He was surprised Alice hadn't seen it.

God, he wanted to see Bella with his own eyes, hear her voice for himself. Alice had spent four days with her now. Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, and Jasper had all met her. He'd gladly give anything for just one minute with her, to be a part of her world for just one minute.

Certainly, out in the open and with so many other humans around her scent would be diluted enough for him to be able to tolerate it, especially since it would be mixed with dog. That stench would mask _anything. _If he had to, he'd hold his breath, but he needed to see her. When the others had arrived yesterday, Jasper's control had slipped just for a fraction of a second. That fraction of a second was enough for Edward to hear in his thoughts that Fido was interested in Bella. In _his _Bella. That mongrel was close to _his _Bella. He could be making a move on her right now. A growl rumbled in his throat at the thought, low and possessive, and all conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at him. He could see them all watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye, but he did not turn to them.

Maybe if he just ignored them, they'd go away.

That was when it happened. That was the moment Edward's entire existence fell apart like shards from a shattered mirror. A sudden exclamation from Alice had him on his feet, and he met her eyes. Both wore identical looks of abject horror on their faces.

"Edward! No! Come back!"

It was too late. Edward had turned from his family and had run so fast toward Lake Quinault that he was already too far away to hear either his family's panicked shouts or their frantic thoughts.

"Alice! What was it? What did you see?"

"Bella! No! Oh, God! Carlisle, it's Bella. He's gone after her!" Alice explained her vision to her family.

After barely a moment's frozen surprise, they all took off into the trees after Edward in a desperate race, but he was faster than any of them. Plus, he'd had a head start.

They wouldn't catch him, and they all knew it.

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Well? What did you think? How was that for a cliff hanger? Pretty good?

If you liked it, please head over to The Lemonade Stand and vote for me for The Story of the Week! Voting is only open til July 31st so there's very little time!


	23. Chapter 23

As always, thank you to my lovely PTB betas for all their help, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Thank you so much to all my reviewers! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to respond to all of you personally. I'm still trying to get the HP fic written for the upcoming fest. I don't think I do well with deadlines – I'm a bit panicked about it. I've also volunteered to validate submissions to this year's Emerging Swan Awards. You've still got today and tomorrow to submit any stories you are loving to bits; submissions are being accepted through Sunday, August 5th. (I'm not pimping for a nomination, IrY doesn't qualify for submission.)

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Also, thank you to everyone who voted for me for Fic of the Week over on The Lemonade Stand. Second Place! Or, in keeping with the Olympics–which I am addicted to and spending way too much time watching when I should be writing–maybe I should say silver medal. Or maybe silver lemon? Can I get a WAHOOOO!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

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"You're sure you'll be OK, Bells?"

"I'm sure, Dad. The sun is out. I have my book. I have my iPod. The cooler's full of food. I'm good. Go. Fish."

Despite having his pole in one hand and his tackle box in the other, her father looked anything but ready to go. Billy, Jacob, and he were going fishing for the day on the lake, as they did every year during their camping trip. This would be the first day since her breakdown that she would have more than a few minutes to herself, and, _oh_, was Bella looking forward to it. She knew she'd put her parents through hell, but they were barely leaving her any room to breathe, and it was really getting on her nerves. She got that they were worried about her, but the never ending questions–how was she feeling, did she wanted to talk about it, would she like to see someone about what was bothering her–were driving her crazy. Her father was less obvious about it, but he was keeping just as close an eye on her as her mother had. When her dad worked, she was with Tanya. Or Alice. If she wasn't with one of them, she was with the Blacks.

Bella would be seventeen next month, and even though she understood their concern, she did not appreciate being babysat.

Today, she would have several hours to herself–that was unless her father changed his mind and stayed behind, which she was afraid was beginning to look more and more like a real possibility.

"Dad, you've been looking forward to this. Go. I'm fine. Really."

Her father looked back and forth apprehensively between her and his friends a few times.

"I want grilled salmon for dinner. So go catch us some."

Charlie sighed resignedly, and before leaving with the others he hugged her like he was afraid he'd never see her again. He'd done that a few times since she'd been here, and it made her uncomfortable. She couldn't remember her dad ever showing his emotions as much as he had these past two weeks. She hated thinking how badly she must've scared him. Sometimes, she got the impression he was afraid to look away from her for even a second–that if he did, she'd disappear, and he'd never see her again. She tried to reassure him. "I'm not going anywhere, Dad. I'll be right here when you get back. I promise."

Once they were gone and she was finally alone, Bella collapsed into one of the folding chairs they'd set up around the fire pit. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and pulled her locket out from under her shirt and held it tightly. She stayed like that for several minutes just listening to the peace and quiet.

All the other campsites were already deserted, so she really was well and truly alone. There had been a flurry of activity when they'd arrived early this morning, but once everyone around them had gotten their tents up, they'd taken off for whatever it was people did when they were camping. Probably fishing, like her father, Billy, and Jacob, Bella supposed, although she knew there were several hiking trails around the park, too.

She laid her head back, enjoying the silence and letting the sun shine down on her face for quite some time before standing up to get her book from her tent.

Her. Tent.

Dear God, she'd be spending three nights in a tent. At least she had an air mattress to sleep on, but still… a tent. Her brand-spanking-new tent. They'd had to go and buy it just for her. Her dad always went camping and fishing with Billy and Jacob, but like everything else he owned, he only had camping gear for one. They'd had to go and get an extra of everything just for her, including the tent. It had been expensive, and she still felt guilty.

The trip to the local sporting goods store had been an experience. Apparently, it was owned by Mike's, aka Blonde-Boy-With-Football's, family. When she and her dad had walked in, he'd been sweeping up in the back of the store. He'd looked up when the bell over the door rang, and when he'd seen her he'd nearly knocked over an entire display rack with his broom in his haste to say hello to her. Bella smiled at the memory.

Her thoughts were pulled back to the present when her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten yet, so before settling down with her book, she got the bacon out of the cooler to make herself a BLT. Camping might not be so bad, really. Here was just as good as anywhere else. They were in a wheelchair accessible site, so the ground was as smooth as possible. It was even paved in some areas, so there wasn't too much for her to trip over. The portable propane grill was not that much different from cooking on a gas stove at home. Bella pulled out a cast iron skillet that was probably at least twice as old as she was and set it on one of the burners. While the bacon was sizzling, she cut up some tomato and lettuce. After making her sandwich, Bella cleaned up the skillet carefully, remembering the warning her father had given her about wild animals being attracted to campsites by left-out food.

Knowing her luck, she'd attract a skunk if she wasn't careful.

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Edward was running faster than he ever had before. Running wasn't even the word for what he was doing; it was more like he was flying. So fast was he moving through the woods that his feet were barely touching the ground. He wasn't even attempting to avoid the low branches in his path. He didn't have the time. Every fraction of a second counted, and he ran straight through them. They hit him like whips, and his shirt was ripped to shreds. Edward never noticed. The only thought in his head was of the vision of Bella that Alice'd had.

Pain worse than anything Edward could have ever imagined roared through him like an inferno the instant he'd seen the vision in Alice's head. Bella. _His Bella. _Lying motionless, mauled, and mangled on the ground. Then, lying dead in his arms as he screamed in anguish.

Edward didn't believe that God listened to creatures like himself, but he thanked Him anyway. He thanked Him, and for the first time he could ever remember, Edward prayed. He thanked God that they hadn't gone to Alaska as they'd originally planned. They'd stayed in British Columbia and were much, much closer than they would have been otherwise. He thanked Him for giving him a psychic sister, without whom he never would've seen… what he'd seen. Without whom, he'd never have had this chance, as slim as it was. He thanked Him for making him fast, and Edward prayed that He would make him faster still. He needed to get there as fast as possible. He didn't know how long he had, but judging from the angle of the shadows Alice's vision, it wasn't long.

As inappropriate as it was, all the while he was praying and thanking God, he was also plotting. That stupid mangy mutt had left Bella unprotected, and Edward would make sure he paid for it. He was going to rip him to pieces.

The dogs saw themselves as protectors of the humans. Protectors. Right. They were doing a great job of protecting. First the alpha dog nearly kills his own mate; now Fido leaves Bella unprotected. Knowing God-damned-well the dangers out there, he left her alone and defenseless.

Whatever his Bella suffered, Edward would revisit on the dog a hundred fold.

Edward knew he would never be able to live with himself after what was about to happen. Carlisle had tried to kill himself many times after awakening to this new life, but he hadn't known then what they knew now. While Edward both thanked and prayed to God and plotted how to most painfully kill the dog, he also planned how best to kill himself. He could live without Bella only as long as he knew she was out there somewhere, only as long as he knew she was alive and happy. But he could not live if she did not live as well. The pain of his grief already consumed him; the flames raging inside Edward at the loss of his mate burned far worse than those that had made him what he now was once had. Only the chance that he might arrive in time allowed him to focus through the agony.

He wondered how he'd do it. He knew what he had to do, but he had to decide specificallyhow. Whatever he decided, Edward knew it had to be fast. He knew his family would be following him. They'd never catch up to him, but they wouldn't arrive long after him. He would have only a few minutes at most.

Edward cursed. He didn't have nearly long enough to kill the dog the way he wanted. Fido would have a much faster death than he deserved after what his Bella was about to suffer because of his negligence.

Ideally for himself, Edward would have his Bella's, _his mate's_, body in his arms when he stepped into the flames.

What mattered the most, though, wasn't what he wanted. What would his mate, _his mate_, want?

His mate. Dear Lord, how could he have been so stupid? How could he have not seen sooner what was now so glaringly obvious?

Bella was his mate.

Of course she was. He had realized and accepted that she had become the most important thing in his world, how could he have not realized _why_? Fate's final justice for all the lives he had taken was to show her to him just in time for him to lose her forever. And it truly would be forever. His Bella's soul was so pure, so precious; she would be welcomed into Heaven with open arms. Not so him.

But he couldn't waste time berating himself. He had to decide what to do… after. What would his Bella want? Edward felt certain she would want whatever was the least painful for her parents. But would that be returning to an empty, destroyed campsite or returning and finding her broken, lifeless body in that destroyed campsite?

Finally, Edward reached the Sound and dove in. The Sound would take him all the way to the eastern edge of the Olympic National Park, and from there, he would only be about forty miles away from the campground. Edward knew he couldn't swim as fast as he could run, but the Sound would give him a more direct route while also allowing him to avoid populated areas.

Just like his running, Edward swam faster than he ever had before, and when he resurfaced, he was shirtless and had lost his shoes and socks somewhere in the water. He never noticed either as he sped across the approximately forty miles of the park's mountainous terrain. As he reached woods of the campground in the Quinault Rainforest, Edward caught his first breath of his Bella's heady scent, and he followed it to find her. The pain her scent caused him was nothing. If anything, it was reassuring. It meant she was near.

It meant his mate was near.

It also meant he was in time.

Edward saw the clearing in the woods where her scent was originating from just ahead of him, and he came to an abrupt halt with his long silent heart in his throat, making sure to stay far enough in the trees to stay concealed.

The moment his eyes found her, Edward was so overwhelmed with his love for her it drove him to his knees. If his heart still beat, it would be hammering its way out of his chest right now. He couldn't believe his eyes. His beautiful Bella was sitting there absorbed in a book. Edward wished he could see the title, but it was hidden from him. She had her hand by her neck and was absently playing with a strand of hair that looked to be shorter than the rest.

_Her neck. _

A wave of desire stronger than anything he'd ever felt coursed through Edward as he imagined himself trailing first his fingers then his mouth down that neck. His Bella was unquestionably the single most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. Innocent and unbearably alluring at the same time. She was completely natural; she wore no makeup at all to conceal her natural perfection. Her skin looked like porcelain. Her hair shone in the sun gloriously. Her chocolate brown eyes defied description. Her full, red lips….

She was ethereal, angelic… and totally unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

Edward thanked God again. He'd made it. He was in time. For several seconds, he was powerless to do more than kneel there hidden in the trees and watch her. Edward couldn't pull his eyes away from his mate until he saw the bear as it neared the campsite, and he cursed himself. He'd had the chance to protect his Bella from even being frightened by it, and he'd wasted that chance. Those seconds watching her, imagining what he wanted to do with her, do to her–though precious to him–had cost him that chance.

It was a male, cinnamon-colored black bear, about five hundred pounds and nearly six feet long. His Bella hadn't seen it yet, but she would very soon. Alice had seen the bear attack in a vision. It was like watching the vision play out again, but it would not play out. Edward would not allow it to. He'd made it. He was in time to stop it, and from his knees he thanked God again. He'd wasted his chance to protect his mate from even being scared, but she would not be so much as scratched.

His Bella was sitting facing him with the bear to her left. As soon as it was fully in the clearing of the campsite she saw it in her peripheral vision, and Edward saw her face turn bone white as the book fell from her limp hands.

_Wuthering Heights_, he noted.

His Bella sat paralyzed with fear for one very long minute before she stood, shaking badly. She was going to try to run to the car parked not far away. That was the wrong decision. The bear would chase her, and she would fall. It would be on her before she was even able to get back up.

Like a flash he was closer to the edge of the trees than was wise. The trees were sparser this close and allowed dappled sunlight to reach him. He shouted, "NO! BELLA! STOP! DON'T MOVE!"

She froze. Her body was completely motionless, only her head moved. She was looking around in clear desperation for the person who had yelled to her.

The bear growled. It had sensed Edward's proximity and was afraid and defensive. It had gone from predator to prey, and it instinctively knew it.

Bella whimpered in fear. The sound was painful to Edward. Forcing himself to remain calm, he spoke loudly, authoritatively, "Bella, it's alright. It's going to be alright. I'm here. There's nothing to fear. I won't let it hurt you. I promise. Don't be afraid."

Edward saw his Bella's eyes follow the sound of his voice and lock on his hidden position. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. Edward felt a moment's panic, but he was sure he was hidden from her view. With his enhanced eyesight he could easily see her perfectly in her cleared campsite, but with her human vision she would never see him hidden among the trees at this distance.

Her heart was pounding. He could hear it. Her already rapid, shallow breathing sped up, and without his realizing, Edward matched his own breathing to hers. He was gripping the tree he was hidden behind so forcefully, his fingers were buried deeply into the wood.

Inexplicably, Bella's mouth widened into a smile. It was incomprehensible. His Bella was _smiling._ It defied all rationale. She was less than fifteen feet from a growling, five-hundred pound bear, _and she was smiling. _Slowly, mystifyingly, a look of pure joy appeared on her face. Rapture was the only word that came close to describing her expression.

The paralyzing fear vanished before Edward's eyes, and his Bella's body stood in a more relaxed, natural posture. Her hand slowly rose toward him. Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it resonated through his entire being. "Edward? Is…. Is that _you_?"

For decades, Edward had existed believing nothing could ever truly surprise him. He had seen too much. Heard too much. There could be nothing new. Now he knew what a fool he had been. Arrogant. He had been so utterly and completely wrong. There were no words that came close to describing how Edward felt in that moment. She had said his name. _His Bella, his mate, had said his name. _Edward had never experienced emotions like those that coursed through him now. It was overwhelming. He felt… euphoric.

But he was abruptly snatched from the sheer ecstasy he felt at hearing his mate say his name for the first timewhen the bear slowly advanced a few feet toward her. Edward growled in a blinding rage and clenched his hands into fists, digging out large chunks of wood in the process.

"Edward, if that really is you, I could use a little help here."

The fear was creeping back into her voice. He needed to act now. He couldn't let her see him drag the bear away. It would surely scare her. "Yes, my love. It's me. I'm here. I need you to listen to me. Don't be afraid. I need you to close your eyes. Close your eyes for me and count to five."

Edward saw her nod her head and watched her close her eyes. His Bella's trust in him was absolute, and it left him reeling. He wished he could stay right there and never pull his eyes from her face, but he couldn't. He watched her mouth as she began to count silently and felt his mouth curve into a smile of his own. She was utterly adorable, and he gave himself until the count of two before launching himself from the trees and across the campsite.

Edward barreled into the bear with a resounding _thud_ and was deep into the forest again before she counted three. The bear was killed instantly by the force of the impact, and he and the now dead bear were a mile away before she had enough time to get to five.

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"One… two…" Thud!"threefourfive!"

Bella's eyes flew open, and she looked around, breathing hard. She was alone. No bear. No Edward. She called his name but got no answer. Bella shook her head furiously. She hadn't imagined him. She hadn't. She'd _heard_ him. She'd _ seen_ him. She couldn't have imagined it. The bear was gone. There. Proof. _And she'd actually seen him._ There. Behind that tree.

Wait….

Which tree? They all…. They all looked exactly alike now. Had she…. No! She hadn't. She _hadn't_ imagined him. _She hadn't. _He'd been there. Bella grabbed her locket from under her shirt and squeezed it so hard it dug into her palm as her eyes searched the trees. She only loosened her grip when she became afraid she'd break the delicate chain.

Edward had been there, a slight, shimmering aura in the trees. She'd been in danger, and he'd come to her. Edward had saved her. She hadn't been able to save him, but he'd saved her. Edward had come back to her, and he'd saved her.

"_I'm here. There's nothing to fear." _His voice echoed in her head. _Oh, God…. The sound of his voice._ Bella'd never heard anything like it. It was like an orchestra playing. Just the memory of it made her knees weak. She gasped, but the breath caught painfully on the lump in her throat. Not just his voice, but the words he'd spoken.

"_I'm here. There's nothing to fear."_

He remembered. The song. _Their _song. He'd said it applied to them.

"_Far across the distance, _

_And spaces between us, _

_You have come to show you go on_.

_You're here, there's nothing I fear, _

_And I know that my heart will go on, _

_We'll stay forever this way, _

_You are safe in my heart, _

_And my heart will go on and on." _

Edward had not only saved her from the bear, but he'd saved her from the pain that was consuming her. He wasn't gone, not really. He'd come to show her he still goes on. Had he been watching her all this time? Had he been afraid for her? Trying all these weeks to find a way to show her he was still there? That he goes on?

Bella choked on a sob and realized that the tears that she'd been unable to shed were now streaming down her face. She knelt to the ground crying her heart out. The tears felt like they were cleansing away the pain. She still missed him, but now she knew she hadn't truly lost him. His spirit… his soul… still went on. It had been right there in the trees. _Edward _had been right there in the trees.

Bella looked back up to where she had seen the shimmering, sparkling light in the trees. Before she knew what she was doing, Bella was on her feet and making her way, tripping and stumbling through the dense undergrowth. She wanted to find the tree she'd seen his light next to. At the time, she'd only had eyes for the slim strip of shimmering light that was Edward's soul. She hadn't taken notice of the trees surrounding it. When Bella had first looked after opening her eyes, she'd thought the trees all looked alike, but there was something she remembered now. A tree behind him…. Bella remembered now. There had been a tree behind Edward with a large bough that had been somehow snapped off and left hanging by a few fibers of wood and bark. She saw the tree in front of her. It wasn't far now, only a few dozen yards at most.

Once Bella was within several feet of it, she tripped and fell to the ground, cutting her palm on a jagged rock. Standing up, she examined her hand. The cut didn't look too bad. She wouldn't need stitches, but it was filthy. She'd need to clean it up, or it'd get infected. That could wait though. She was so overcome by the fact that _she had seen Edward, she'd heard him, he'd called her his love!, _that for the first time the sight of blood had no effect on her.

As she stood and looked around, Bella realized she was standing exactly where she had seen the sparkling light, where she had seen Edward. Bella felt lightheaded, and she put her hand against the tree next to her to steady herself. The cut on her palm stung and burned when she leaned her weight against her hand. She pulled her hand away, looking at the tree as she did so. There were two odd gouges in the tree, almost as if someone had scooped them out, and she ran her finger tentatively along the rough edges. They were definitely very fresh, very recent. Bella sat down, leaning her back against the tree, still looking around. She called out, "Edward? Are you still here? Can you hear me? I love you, Edward. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you when I had the chance. But I do. I love you so much. And I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts." The tears returned as she spoke, and she wiped her face with her uncut hand. It was dirty from where it rested on the ground next to her, and she had dirt smeared across her face. "You saved me. You came for me."

Bella giggled as soon as she realized what she'd said. _"You came for me." _

Soon, the giggles turned into full blown laughter, and Bella was hiccupping from crying and laughing so hard she could barely breathe. It felt so good to laugh again.

"Sorry. Didn't mean it like that," she said once her laughter quieted.

Or did she? _Had he…._ Granted Edward had lived in a very different time, but different time or not he'd been a seventeen-year-old boy. Bella bit her lip and moaned at just the thought of him… doing _that_… and thinking of her. She'd dreamed of him like that, of him touching her, loving her, claiming her, making her his, making them one…. Had he dreamed of her like that, too?

"Oh, God…. Edward…."

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"She's beautiful."

"Yes, Edward. She's very pretty. But we need to leave."

Edward shook his head without taking his eyes off the sleeping girl sixty feet below them. Once he'd gone far enough that he was sure the bear's carcass wouldn't attract other animals to the area, he'd dropped it for nature to take care of and returned immediately. He'd had to make sure his Bella was alright. He'd needed to see her again, and now that he was here he didn't want to leave.

Alice must've seen that he'd been in time, and there was no bonfire to prevent, because his family had given him privacy for nearly two hours. Edward was more grateful than he could say. They'd given him the one thing he'd never be able to give them in return. But now, finally, Carlisle had come to tell him he had to leave her. He simply couldn't. "I'm not leaving."

Carlisle was exasperated. "Edward, listen to me. I know you want to stay, and I understand. I do. It may have been decades ago, but I do remember what it was like to finally find Esme. But, they'll be back soon. We can't be here when they get back."

"I'm not leaving. Tanya was right. They're so _fragile._ Do you have any idea how many things can happen to them? You don't have to worry about any of that. You don't have to worry about Esme getting sick or being in an accident, _or being attacked by a bear_. What if the cut on her hand gets infected? She could develop septicemia. Alice won't see it because that damn dog will be with her."

"They have an emergency kit with them, and Charlie is very well trained at first aid." Carlisle had not missed the burning hatred in his son's voice when he mentioned the young Quileute boy. "Edward, she needs to go back to the campsite before her father returns. After what happened last month, if Charlie gets back and she's not there…." Carlisle left his sentence unfinished, but Edward clearly saw in his thoughts how distraught Charlie would be. Worse, he saw the likely reaction Carlisle did not mention out loud. The damn mangy flea-bag would go wild. Fido would detect not only Edward's scent, but the faint scent of Bella's blood from the cut on her hand as well.

It wasn't hard to guess what conclusion he'd jump to.

He'd lose control. He would phase. With his Bella only yards away. In front of Charlie, _his mate's father_. There was also Fido's own father and the other humans not far away to consider. An irresponsible, irrational, irate werewolf pup surrounded by very breakable humans, including his mate and her father. Fido had to be able to see that Bella was safe immediately, or all hell would break loose. Edward didn't want to leave. He felt like he was ripping himself into bits and leaving half of himself behind. But he didn't matter. His mate and her safety were all that mattered. Reluctantly, Edward said, "The path she took to get here…. She won't be able to see the campsite from this far away. Will she be able to follow the path do you think?"

Bella wouldn't be familiar with forests. Had she ever even seen one before? If she woke up and couldn't see her way back she might panic. She could go in the wrong direction. She could fall again. She could get hurt. Not waiting for Carlisle's answer, Edward jumped down noiselessly from his perch high up in the tree and landed three feet away from Bella. He allowed himself a short moment to just stand next her, watching her sleep, watching her breathe, the moment reflected back at him through his father's eyes, before following her trail back and forth to and from the campsite several times, beating down a subtle but human followable path.

Edward smirked. If his scent drove Fido crazy, oh well. It might have been impulsive, but the stench from the dog was so prevalent all around the campsite, and remembering Jasper's momentary thought about the dog's developing feelings for Bella, _for his MATE, _Edward walked around the campsite deliberately touchingthings and sitting in all the chairs.

_I__s that really necessary, Edward?_

He smirked again. "Yes, it is."

Fido might as well know right now he had best stay away from Bella. Edward circled the smaller of the two tents… _Bella's_… several times, finally spitting his venom around it.

_Edward, really._

"Tell me you wouldn't do exactly the same."

There was no answer, at least not verbally.

"Thought so," Edward responded to his father's unspoken admission that yes, were their situations reversed, he'd do the same.

Edward walked back to Bella one last time, daring to kneel next to her. He was only inches away from her. Close enough to feel her warmth. Quietly, so he wouldn't wake her, he said, "Bella. What a perfect name. Beautiful." Slowly, carefully, Edward raised his hand and as gently as possible, he traced his finger down the side of her face. Dear Lord… _t__he warmth._ An electric charge spread through his body from his finger. How could anything feel so indescribably good?

Unsurprisingly, his cold touch caused his mate to flinch in her sleep, and she instinctively rose her hand to bat away whatever had touched her. Before her hand reached her face, Edward was already back in the tree tops, and he and Carlisle were a dozen yards away. They were still close enough to hear her muffled exclamation when she woke up and found herself in the middle of the woods. They stayed nearby only long enough to listen and make sure she found her way back safely.

Once they were several miles into the Olympic National Park and nowhere near humans, while it was still just Carlisle and him, there was something Edward had to discuss with Carlisle. When he'd returned to the campsite after dumping the bear's carcass, Bella had been on the ground crying. He hadn't been surprised. After what she'd just been through, it was to be expected she'd be very upset. A bear, a disembodied voice in the trees, then she closes her eyes, a loud thud–and poof, no more bear. It was a wonder she'd only been crying and not completely in hysterics.

Edward had been beside himself wanting to go to her. Foolishly, he very nearly had, but she had suddenly gotten up and started fighting her way into the forest. The trees were somewhat sparse close to the campsites, but the undergrowth was very dense and the ground was rocky and uneven with partially exposed roots. He'd sat in a tree frozen stupidly. He'd had no idea what she was doing. Edward had moved silently closer, but he was helpless to do anything but watch as his mate had stumbled her way toward the exact tree he'd hidden behind earlier.

As soon as Bella had reached the tree, she'd fallen, and he'd had to force himself not to jump out of the tree to catch her before she could hit the ground. It would hardly have been helpful if he'd suddenly dropped to the ground next to her out of nowhere, _glittering_. His concern had solely been that his mate might be hurt, without realizing that if she had been hurt, there would be blood. Not just his mate's blood, _but his singer's blood._

Before it had occurred to him to hold his breath the smell of her blood had hit him. Though it had been painful, it had been surprisingly tolerable, and part of the pain, he'd realized, came just from knowing his mate had been hurt.

When she'd touched her bleeding hand just inches away from the gouges he'd left in the trunk, he'd almost fallen out of the tree he was hidden in. She'd gone straight to it, like she'd been drawn to it. A human should _not_ have been able to do that. And then she'd lovingly run her fingertips along the gouges he'd left behind as if she knew, as if she'd wanted to touch something he'd touched.

Of course, Edward realized now that had just been wishful thinking on his part. His Bella had probably just touched the gouges he'd left behind in curiosity. Then had come her words. The words that had caused him far more pain than the scent of her blood had. Pain second only to the pain from believing he would be too late to save her. "Edward?" she'd asked, "Are you still here? Can you hear me? I love you, Edward. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you when I had the chance. But I do. I love you so much. And I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts." Bella had started crying again. "You saved me. You came for me." Then she'd laughed.

Her words had cut into him, and her laughter, as much as he'd loved the sound of it, had confused him. What exactly, he'd wondered, about what had just happened could she possibly have considered funny?

"Sorry. Didn't mean it _like that_."

Edward was ashamed to admit it–and if his siblings ever found about it he'd never, _literally never, _hear the end of it–but it had taken a full five seconds for him to realize what she was laughing about.

"_You came for me."_

It seemed his Bella had a bit of a dirty sense of humor. And it was someone else she'd been thinking about. After she'd cried and laughed herself to sleep, Bella'd dreamed about someone. The sounds she'd made, the moans, the way she'd whispered his name in her sleep, adoringly, almost like a prayer. The scent of her arousal. All of it was for someone else. Not him.

How stupid could he _possibly _be? How arrogant? How incredibly…_ just stupid?_ Bella hadn't said "Edward" meaning _him._ She'd never even met him. She didn't even know he existed. What had ever made him think she'd meant _him_? Did he think he was the only Edward in the world? His name wasn't as popular as it once was, true, but it still was common enough. Whoever his mate had been hoping was there, whoever she'd said she'd loved and missed, it hadn't been him.

Edward knew Tanya had wondered if a boy had been behind her breakdown last month. Although they hadn't been able to find anything to indicate that, apparently there had been. Except he hadn't left her like Tanya had suspected. At least, not willingly. If what Bella had said and the way she'd said it were any indication, Edward suspected the boy she was in love with had died. Everything pointed to that. Probably suddenly, or she would have had time to tell him how she felt. Heaven knew he'd heard those exact words in countless people's minds in that very tone, _I'm so sorry I didn't tell you when I had the chance._

His poor angel. She was heartbroken. Jasper had even compared the pain Bella was in to what he would've felt if anything happened to Alice. They should've known then. They should've realized then. At least now that they knew what had happened, they could get her grief counseling and help her through it. His Bella would be well again. She would be happy again. He would make sure of it. What else could he do? Her pain over losing the one she loved took precedence over his own pain over knowing her heart belonged to someone else.

"Carlisle, I know what happened. Last month. I know what was wrong. Who's Edward?"

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Bella was having the most wonderful dream. Edward was with her. In her dream he'd told her he loved her over and over as he trailed kisses all over her face. She was smiling and telling him she loved him too as she tried to catch his lips, but he always just evaded her. Until finally she caught him. Really, she suspected he'd let himself be caught. Whatever. Now that Bella had his mouth she wasn't letting it go. Their kiss was _mind blowing _and left her moaning and desperate for more. Edward moved from her lips down her throat, alternating kissing, licking, and nibbling as she moaned his name. He kissed his way back up to her jaw, and she turned her head and ran her tongue along the shell of his ear before pulling his earlobe into her mouth and gently sucking it. He actually _growled_ and gently laid her down among the ferns and moss and not at all gently rubbed himself against her. She saw stars and wrapped her legs around him, sliding her hands under his shirt and up his back.

They slowly undressed each other, kissing and touching as each inch of skin was revealed before their eyes for the first time, exploring as they learned each other's bodies for the first time. Just as he was about to enter her, a voice intruded on their little private paradise. _"need to leave… she needs to go back…"_

Edward tried to argue, to tell the voice he wasn't leaving, but his body was already losing its form. _"Bella. What a perfect name. Beautiful." _He left her with a gentle touch on her cheek and his whispered words. She tried to take his hand, but when she brought her hand to her face, his was already gone. Bella slowly opened her eyes. It had been a dream, and she was alone.

"Damn."

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Well, there you go. Boy meets girl. Well, kinda-sorta.

Hope you liked it! Drop me a review and let me know!

See you next week!


	24. Chapter 24

As always, thank you to my lovely PTB betas for all their help, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Update on David – Great news! David's been discharged! Before surgery it was expected he would spend 3 – 5 weeks in the hospital _after_ his 1 – 2 week stay in the PICU, but it's less than a month post-surgery, and he's already been released! He's by no means done, he still has to go back to the hospital daily, but that he would already be well enough to be released and stay at the hotel with his family so soon was something that was too much to even hope for. He's eating foods he's not been able to eat in years – he had a cheeseburger and fries for the first time in three years on the 9th. Thank you so much for all your prayers and well wishes, and of course your likes!

: / w w w . face book hope for david 2012

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

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Carlisle looked at his son, unsure how to proceed and trying hard not to let his thoughts betray him, but it was very difficult. How, exactly, do you think of how to say something without thinking about what you need to say? This wasn't something you could just spring on someone. Carlisle needed to tell his son his suspicion gently. He'd hoped he would have had more time to decide how best to tell Edward what he believed to be true, but he wasn't going to get it.

And, God help him, what if he was wrong?

It was clear Edward had realized he was in love with the… with Bella. What if, as sure as Carlisle was that he was right, he was wrong? He would have gotten Edward's hopes up only to have them ripped down. His beloved son's heartache would be that much worse, and it would be his fault.

Hesitantly, Carlisle said, "We need to talk. I think… it would be better to have this conversation at home. Esme is waiting there for us. The others aren't there. We won't be disturbed."

"No. It's OK. I mean…." Edward struggled to find the right words. "No, it's not _OK_. I mean I already know. She's… she's…. Whoever he is, she's… in love… with him. And I think he died."

Edward paused, unable to go on, and Carlisle hesitantly asked, "What makes you think that?"

He was unable to look at Carlisle. He was barely able to speak. He felt like his heart was being turned into dust. His mate was in love with someone else. "She said so."

"She said that?" Carlisle was unable to keep the hope he felt for his son's happiness out of his voice or his mind. _Edward, he's you._

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"Hey, welcome back. How was fishing? I hope you caught a lot. I'm half-starved."

Charlie, Billy, and Jacob were walking up the single lane road from the lake. By the way they were smiling and laughing together, it was clear they'd had a good day. Her dad was pushing Billy, who had the three fishing poles and tackle boxes on his lap, and Jacob was carrying the cooler they had taken with them to bring back their catch.

Bella had been sitting in a folding chair with her feet propped up against the bench from a very weather-beaten old picnic table. A soft lilac-colored chenille throw was wrapped around her legs, and her book was open but forgotten on her lap.

Even though the sun had been shining brilliantly all afternoon, the ground was damp where the trees sheltered it from the sun, only allowing dappled sunlight to reach the ground. Although she'd woken up from her nap curled up against the tree Edward had appeared next to feeling better than she had felt in a long time, she'd also woken up damp and cold. The temperature in the sun was in the mid-sixties, but in the shade it was considerably cooler.

Once she'd found her way back to the campsite–which, fortunately, had been much easier to do than she'd feared it would be when she'd woken up and looked around her–she'd changed into dry jeans and had laid the ones she'd been wearing across the other end of the bench to dry in the sun. As she spoke she stood up and folded her blanket. She checked her jeans, but they were still damp, and she left them where they were. It was only about five o'clock; there was still a couple hours of sun left. Bella unzipped the door to her tent and put her book and the chenille throw on her air mattress.

She'd only had her eyes off her dad, Billy, and Jacob for less than a minute, but in those few seconds their expressions had undergone a complete three-sixty degree change. Gone were the laughing smiling men she'd seen when she'd entered her tent. Her dad looked worried sick. Jacob looked primal in his fury. Billy was an alarming combination of both.

Jacob stormed into the campsite like some kind of ancient warrior who returns from battle to find his village burned to the ground and his family slaughtered. Her dad pushed Billy into the campsite quickly behind him. Both men were watching Jacob's reaction closely and scanning the campsite as if they were searching for intruders. Neither man looked at the other; their focus was solely on Jacob as he moved around the campsite. By the look on her father's face, Bella thought that if he'd had his gun on him, he'd have drawn it.

"Dad, what's going on?"

Her father left Billy just barely inside the campsite and rushed to her. He took her face roughly in his hands and stared at her intently. "Bells, are you OK?"

Bella blinked twice; it was almost as if they knew what had happened, as if they knew about the bear. But that was ridiculous, Bella told herself; they couldn't possibly know. Her father released her face and began actually _inspecting _her for injuries. He gripped her wrist tightly. "What did you do to your hand?"

Bella looked at her bandaged hand, unable to understand the desperation in her father's voice. It was just a simple cut. She'd cleaned it up and bandaged it as soon as she'd gotten back to camp before she'd changed her jeans. Only now did she realize the blood hadn't bothered her in the least, but after what had happened she was hardly surprised. Nothing like a huge bear and a guardian angel–who just so happens to be your dead best friend, who you just so happen to be in love with–to distract a girl from the sight of a little blood.

Edward was her guardian angel. She'd been in danger, and he'd saved her. She still couldn't wrap her mind around it, and she smiled. The odd behavior of her father and his friends became unimportant compared to the fact that Edward had come to her, had protected her when she'd been in danger. A small giggle escaped her lips.

Turned out, smiling and giggling in the face of her father's near hysteria wasn't helpful.

"Isabella Marie!" he shouted."What happened to your hand?"

The fear in her father's voice brought her abruptly back to the moment. "I… fell?" Bella could not understand what was going on, and her confusion made her words come out as a question.

They couldn't possibly know. _Could they?_ Right now, their behavior was so bizarre, she could almost believe that, somehow, they did. But there was no evidence of the bear at all. She was sure. After she'd bandaged her hand and changed her jeans, she'd checked. There were no prints. There was no indication of any kind. Puzzled, she spoke to him slowly, the way a person might talk to someone who'd just said they were the reincarnation of King Tut. "It's just a cut. I'm fine. How about you? You OK there, Dad? Maybe a touch too much sun?"

Instead of answering her, Charlie grabbed hold of her and hugged her so fiercely it hurt, and Bella could almost feel her bones rub together. The bear hadn't gotten anywhere near her, but right now her father was holding her so tightly she was afraid her ribs would break and puncture a lung. "Dad… can't… breathe."

Her father only loosened his grip on her marginally, but it was enough for her to be able to look around for Billy and Jacob. Despite being able to easily maneuver his chair himself, Billy was still sitting right where her father had left him, an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes stared unblinkingly at her father. He was motionless and white as a sheet, which considering his normally deep ruddy complexion, scared her.

Jacob was nowhere to be seen.

"Dad, what's going on? What's wrong?" Bella got no answer and turned to Billy. "Billy?"

Billy didn't answer her either. He was sitting motionless in his wheelchair; his gaze had move to stare straight into the trees, exactly where Edward had appeared to her.

The tension was so thick in their little campsite that when Jacob suddenly came up behind her and spoke, Bella almost jumped out of her shoes. So startled by his sudden appearance so close behind her was she that she completely missed what he said, but when asked, he didn't repeat it.

As suddenly and as completely as the mood had changed when she'd gone into her tent a few minutes ago, it changed again. Jacob wore a pained, sickened expression on his face. Billy looked like he had just eaten something sour that was trying to fight its way back out. Her father's expression she couldn't see. He was still holding her, but his arms felt limp around her. It was now like _she_ was holding _him_ up.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong, Bells. Everything is fine. Everything's fine. Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine."

Normally a man of very few words, her dad was not prone to repeating himself. Everything was very definitely not fine. If her father wouldn't give her a straight answer, she'd get one from Jacob or Billy. Bella stepped a half step away from her dad, but not realizing just how close Jacob was, she stepped right into him. She turned, seeing a look of pure revulsion on his face as he leaned in close to her. So closely did Jacob lean toward her, that for one insane second, Bella thought he was going to kiss her. Jacob was barely an inch away from the side of her face when he drew back with the revulsion even deeper in her eyes. She moved away from him.

"Jeez, Jacob. Personal space. Ever heard of it?" she asked.

Jacob looked as if he'd smelled something disgusting, and Bella tried to subtly check her shoes. Had she stepped in something when she was in the woods? Wanting to get away from Jacob, Bella looked to where Billy still sat and went over to him to push him fully into the campsite. All three of the men seemed to be slowly returning to normal, her father with obvious relief, Jacob and Billy with equally obvious reluctance. Whatever it was that had so suddenly and completely unnerved them, it was clear they weren't going to tell her what it had been, or at least not right now. Billy and Jacob were silent, and in trying to appear normal, her father was overcompensating and talking too much, hurriedly telling her all about the fish they'd caught–how many fish, what kind of fish, how big they were, the one that got away….

Charlie was still rambling on as he got out his paring knife and pulled a large salmon out of the cooler, and as he did, Bella caught a glimpse of the day's catch. The cooler was nearly full and had to weigh a ton. She couldn't imagine how Jacob had carried by himself all that distance so easily. Granted, he looked even taller and more muscled than she remembered from Easter, but still….

Shaking her head, Bella got Billy settled near the metal folding table they'd brought with them, since the old wooden ones the campsites offered were too warped and had too many splinters to actually sit at. Who understood the way the male mind worked? Not her, that was for sure. But she knew that she'd demonstrated enough odd behavior herself to very nearly get herself committed to a mental hospital.

_I will try not to get myself committed while you are away. _

The words Edward once wrote to her in jest flashed through Bella's mind, and her smile returned and doubled.

To disguise her smile, Bella looked down at Billy and said something absently about too much sun doing odd things to people who aren't used to it.

Rather than laughing at what she'd intended to be a joke, fear was evident in his dark eyes as he looked up at her, and for one strange moment, Bella couldn't tell if it was fear _for_ her or _of_ her.

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Edward sat on the black leather couch in his room, looking speechlessly back and forth between his parents. Carlisle had pulled a chair over to him and was sitting to his right, leaning forward with his elbow on his knees. His features and thoughts clearly showed his absolute sincerity in spite of the incredible story he'd just told him. Esme was on the sofa beside him, also leaning toward him, with her hands gently resting on his knee. Her eyes mirrored her thoughts. She was filled with pure joy. What reason was there to be joyful? Couldn't they see Carlisle's theory was impossible? Certainly, they had to see that.

And after several moments of silence, he told him so.

In Carlisle's mind, all of their interactions from Edward's last summer as a human ran in circles like a movie, and Edward flinched and looked away, trying to think of anything that would distract him from Carlisle's memories and the pain and loss he always felt when he was reminded of his first life.

Esme took his hand in a tight grip. "Edward, I'm sorry. I know you don't like to be reminded of things you have no memory of, but it's necessary."

Edward shook his head, refusing to even consider what his father was telling him. In that moment, Edward was just like any other seventeen-year-old boy, refusing to accept that things could be different from what he believed them to be and unwilling to listen to his parents tell him they were.

"It simply isn't possible," he pleaded.

_A thing is only impossible until someone does it, _was Carlisle's unspoken response. Out loud he said, "Vampires aren't possible, according to humans. No more are werewolves, or shape shifters, or mindreading, or seeing the future, or any number of other things you know to be real because you've seen or experienced them. Who are we to say that's something is not possible, simply because _we_ cannot do it?"

Edward turned to Esme for support, surely she could not believe he had written to and received letters from Bella several decades before she'd even been born.

"After my son died, I stepped off a cliff as a human, believing I had no one and nothing to live for. I awoke three days later as a vampire and part of a family. As I walked to that cliff, I certainly would've said that was impossible, but it happened."

"Edward, everything I took for you from your home is in the rooms over the garage. Bella's letters to you will be among the things I took from your bedroom. I'm sure of it."

Edward couldn't look at either of them anymore. The matching looks of hope on their faces were too much. Everything they were saying…. It was impossible. It had to be impossible. But Bella's face, smiling as she stood next to her father on Easter Sunday, haunted his mind and wouldn't leave him in peace.

He _knew_ her. He'd known he somehow knew her. Could this have been how?

Edward stood and crossed his room. Opening the French door, he stepped out onto the small deck. _It is impossible. The situation is impossible._ He repeated the words to himself, but the sound of Bella's voice calling out to him echoed throughout him and drowned them out. Her voice saying his name, saying she loved him rang in every cell in his body. Somehow, he'd known her before. And this was how.

Edward remembered the absolute trust in him Bella had shown when she followed his instructions and closed her eyes….

He _had_ known her.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand braced on the railing as he remembered the way Bella had gone straight to the tree he'd hidden behind as if pulled by an invisible cord, the way she'd touched the gouges he'd left behind. He remembered her words….

He remembered her saying she loved him.

He remembered her saying she missed him so much it hurt. His mate was hurting because of him, and it doubled him over. The breakdown she'd suffered; he'd been the cause of it. It had been his fault. He'd gotten sick, and she believed he'd died.

Edward could hear his parents' concerned thoughts, but they stayed where they were.

He _really had _known her, and this was how. This was how he could have known her, but not remember her.

Edward was certain that if he entered the storage rooms above the garage, he would find exactly what Carlisle'd said he would. Letters written to him by his mate. As impossible as it was, it had to have happened. He knew he'd known her before, but in spite of his flawless memory since his transformation he couldn't remember how. This had been how he'd known her and why he couldn't remember. He'd known her _before_ his transformation. Somehow, by some miracle, they'd found each other while he was still human, and once he was changed, he'd forgotten her along with everything else. Until now. Until fate brought them together again, and he recognized, if not remembered her. It was incredible. It should be impossible, but he was sure it was true. With her in 2009 and him in 1918, they'd somehow found each other and written to each other.

He'd been in love with her then, too. He had to have been. How could he not have been?

It had to have been a miracle.

But he was a monster now, and monsters don't get to keep miracles.

What was he going to do now? Not even the ninety plus years separating them had been enough to keep them from finding each other once already. So how in the hell was he supposed to keep her from finding him again, now that not only were they actually living in the same year, but her father was Tanya's mate?

And there was no question in Edward's mind he had to do just that.

No matter what fate had in mind for her, under no circumstances would he allow his Bella to be condemned to this half-life. She was too good. Too pure. And he would make damn sure she stayed that way. Edward vowed he would make sure his Bella would always be able to sit in the sun out in the open as she had today when he'd first seen her with his own eyes. His Bella would never have to hide because the sun was shining. He loved her too much to allow that.

His Bella was hurting because of him right now, but she was human, and humans could move on. She would mourn him, but she would move on and be happy again. Bella's happiness was more important than his own, and even as his heart shattered in his chest for the third time today, Edward began taking a mental tally of who would support his decision. Rosalie, he knew, would side with him for her own reasons. Emmett would want whatever Rosalie wanted. Carlisle and Esme would want whatever made him happy, or at least what they believed would make him happy.

_Tanya and Alice will be a problem, _Edward thought to himself. Surely, Alice already knew what Carlisle had just told him. She'd have seen the discussion before it had even happened and would have immediately told Tanya. Alice would also know what he intended to do. Or not do. As for Tanya, she was a permanent fixture in his Bella's father's life, and his Bella and Alice were already friends. Both would be more than happy at the thought of his Bella's joining them. Alice would be thrilled at the prospect of her very first friend outside the family becoming family, becoming her sister, and Edward knew that separating Charlie from his daughter was the largest of the stumbling blocks preventing Tanya from being able to change him. Neither one would be happy at his intention to keep Bella human.

Just like Emmett with Rosalie, Jasper would want whatever Alice wanted. Jasper might even support her being changed for other reasons. Bella's mind was completely silent to him. Bella, like her father, was also a shield, and in all probability, an even more powerful one.

"Edward, son, there's more."

Carlisle cut off his mental ramblings, and Edward turned once again to his father. "What more could there possibly be?"

"Son, it goes both ways. Not only did you know about her and her life, s_he knew about you and your life._ She knew about the influenza. She was the one who told you about it. Her mother told Charlie that Bella had been studying _some old forgotten epidemic_ to the point of obsession in the months prior to her breakdown. I spoke to Charlie about that. That _old forgotten epidemic_ was the Spanish Flu of 1918. And, Edward…. I'm sorry, but I strongly suspect the cause for her breakdown was her belief that you had died. You heard what Jasper said in Phoenix. He compared her pain to what a vampire would feel at the loss of their mate. If you're considering what, knowing you, I suspect you're considering, you would not be saving her. You would be condemning her to an inevitable relapse, far worse than the first. It's a certainty. Alice has seen it. She won't recover."

They were silent for a moment as both Carlisle and Esme recalled Alice's pained description of her vision. Both knew Alice's emotional retelling of her vision in her own words, with all the emotion it stirred in her, would be much more poignant than if they related it to Edward themselves.

Carlisle continued, "The pain she is in–you know better than I what that is like from Jasper's thoughts–it will only get worse the longer she is without you. She's not only your mate, Edward. _You are hers_. She needs you as much as you need her. You can withstand the pain of being without her far better than she can withstand the pain of being without you."

Edward shook his head in denial. "There has to be another way. There has to be."

He recalled the peaceful image of his Bella sitting in the sun and reading. Her beautiful face had been serene; her attitude, natural and relaxed. Her heart rate and breathing had been perfectly normal. There had been no sign of any pain or depression.

"I think she's getting better, Carlisle. I saw her today. She looked perfectly well. I think Alice is wrong. I really do think she's doing well now." Edward's words were as much to convince himself as his parents, but they rang hollow even to his own ears.

"No, Edward, she's not. I know you want to believe that she is. I'm sure you _do _believe that she is. But she is not. This is merely the eye of the storm. All the pain is still there, but she is fighting it. Jasper is amazed by her strength. Alice has grown very fond of her, and they have joined Tanya in watching over them during the night. He is directing as many positive emotions, as much of a sense of peace to her while she sleeps as he can. It is helping her cope. It's helping her sleep; she has not had another nightmare since the first night as a result. Being well rested is also helping, as is Tanya's insistence on her eating properly, but they are only postponing the inevitable. Bella will only be here for another week and a half. Once she returns to Phoenix and is without Jasper's regular assistance, the nightmares will return. From there, she will decompensate quickly. Jasper can only provide a band aid. But that band aid is for a severed artery. To really heal, she needs you. _She needs her mate_." Mentally he added, _And Edward, you should know. It is only the _nightmares _which have stopped. She still dreams, and she dreams of you. She talks in her sleep. She says your name in her sleep. She says your name, and she says she loves you. _

Carlisle and Esme rose to leave to give Edward privacy and let him come to terms with everything they'd said.

Edward had never felt so torn and confused in his life. In the life that he could remember anyway. He wanted them to go. He wanted to be alone. But, he also wanted them to stay. He wanted his Bella with him always, but he wanted more for her than he would ever be able to give her.

Edward stood and crossed the room to play one of his favorite CD's. Debussy. He knew from Carlisle that he had been a favorite composer of both his mother's and his own, and unlike most things that reminded him of his human life, this music always soothed him. Had he shared his love of music with Bella, he wondered? It was the one thing that had carried over from his first life to this one. Did she like music? She probably only knew her own generation's music. He could teach her to appreciate the classics. He could play them for her. Images of himself seated at his piano downstairs with his Bella at his side danced in his mind. Did she play an instrument, he wondered? The corners of his lips lifted into a dreamy smile. If not, he would teach her; then, they could play together. The harp. That was the instrument she should play, Edward decided. What could be a more fitting instrument for an angel than the harp?

One song faded to a close, and the next began.

His mother. Elizabeth. Edward didn't like to think about her. It hurt too much. He loved the name Elizabeth. It was a ladylike name. Feminine, but strong. Just like his mother had been. Edward knew her face and her voice from Carlisle's mind, and he also knew from Carlisle that she was a lady of not only perfect Victorian manners and endless compassion but also of fierce determination. It was because of that determination that he was sitting here now unable to remember a single moment with her on his own instead of lying in a coffin in a cemetery in Chicago beside her and his father.

His father. Edward's knowledge of his father was even less. It was limited to the only two times Carlisle had ever met him–one 4th of July picnic and the day of his death, which was a day Edward tried very hard to never think of.

Edward had always believed to varying degrees over the past decades that he belonged in that coffin in Chicago, and for a long time he'd resented his mother that he wasn't there with them where he belonged.

His mother had begged Carlisle to save him. She'd known what he was. Why, then, hadn't she begged for her husband's, his father's, life? Why hadn't she begged for her own as well as his?

She'd gone on to be with her husband and had left him behind. She'd gotten her reward for having lived a good life but had deprived him of his own. She'd condemned him to becoming a monster while she'd gone on to become an angel, and for a long time Edward had resented her for that.

He hadn't understood. He hadn't begun to be able to understand until after Esme joined them, and he heard her all-consuming pain in her thoughts of the infant son she'd lost. Full understanding came when he'd earned his first medical degree and had had to go on rounds in a children's hospital with an oncologist. The agonized minds of parents watching helplessly as their children fought for their lives, far too often losing that fight, still haunted him. There had been nothing more any of those parents could have done for their children. But his mother had had something those parents did not. She'd had Carlisle. It had been decades now since he'd forgiven her in that hospital, but until this moment Edward had never thought he would ever have had cause to thank her. Had it not been for her request of Carlisle, his beautiful Bella would be lying in a coffin of her own right now. He would not have been there to save her from that bear, and two more parents would have known the unspeakable pain of burying their child.

The song changed again.

Bears were easy. He could protect her from every bear on the planet, but he had to find a way to protect her from the future Alice had seen for her. There had to be a way. Alice was always telling them the future was dependent on what decisions people made. He just had to find the right decision to change Alice's vision.

Edward paced back and forth pinching the bridge of his nose as the CD played on and on over and over.

As the CD began again he got an idea, and he froze in mid-stride. Could it be that simple? Would it work? With his foot still raised in the air, he began running possible problems through his mind, but he didn't see anything insurmountable. Edward began to feel hope. This could work. Why wouldn't it? It would be perfect. They had written to each other before. Time itself hadn't been enough to stand between them before.

So why should his supposed death do so now? Why couldn't he simply continue to write to her?

Part of his mind had already begun happily composing his first letter to his mate as another part continued to look for potential problems. Would she believe it was him? But why wouldn't she? The biggest problem he could see was if she referred to something they had talked about before, and he didn't know what she was talking about. But there were others. First off, he had no idea how they'd managed it before.

Exactly how much postage did you use to send a letter over ninety years through time?

How had it ever begun in the first place? How would he manage it now?

Edward sighed and sat back down on his sofa. There was no other solution; he was going to have to read the letters she'd written him before. Hopefully, all the answers he needed would be there. It wasn't that Edward didn't want to read her letters, he was very nearly desperate to. But he was afraid if he did, he would fall even further in love with her and having to stay away from her would be that much harder and hurt that much more.

He stepped out onto his balcony. He would gladly bear the brunt of their shared pain to lessen hers.

Edward leapt down gracefully and in two more steps and another leap, up this time, he was in the rooms over the garage. This was where they kept things they couldn't bear either to part with or to see. There wasn't much, and most of what there was by far was his, but everyone had something. When you live lifetime after lifetime you collect things whether you want to or not, and not all of them are good. They never came up here if they could avoid it, and it showed. A thick layer of dust covered everything and was disturbed as he landed in the center of the room, causing countless dust motes to drift through the rays of sun streaming in through the windows.

The sunlight reflecting off the floating particles strengthened him. His beautiful Bella was warm like the mid-August sunlight, and he would not allow her to become cold and frozen like himself.

Quickly, Edward found what he was looking for. After Carlisle had bitten him, he'd had to leave him for a short period of time as he burned. Despite the necessity of it, Edward knew Carlisle still carried immense guilt over it. But even in the chaos of the epidemic there'd been paperwork documenting his death to complete. It hadn't been difficult. Funerals had already been banned in Chicago, so it hadn't been difficult for him to identify the as yet unclaimed, and unfortunately very unlikely ever to be, body of an unknown victim found dying in the street as Edward Masen.

There had been no risk of the false identification being noticed by anyone who knew him. No one–_absolutely no one–_looked at bodies once they had a tag on them. His father's family lived out of state, and his mother's family was overwhelmed caring for several family members who had fallen ill in the days before and after he and his mother had. As much as he knew they grieved for his mother and himself through their conversations with Carlisle, neither family had had any real choice but to gratefully accept his offer of assistance in making the arrangements. Palms were greased, and both his mother and the unknown young man were buried alongside his father much faster than was the norm at the time.

Another reason Carlisle had left him was his wish that Edward have as much of what was rightfully his as possible, even if it could only be very little, and had broken into their house and stolen almost everything of a personal nature. In front of Edward now was all that was left of his human life– all of his mother's jewelry and her knitting, all of their books, every family photograph Carlisle could find, correspondence, clothing, collectables, and very nearly the entire contents of his bedroom minus the furniture. The letters his beautiful Bella had written to him would have to be there. They were right in front of him, mere feet away. All he had to do was open a trunk and look for them. That was all. Just kneel down, open a trunk, and look for them.

So why the hell wasn't he doing it? Why was he still standing there like a statue?

Hours passed before he gave up and sagged onto the floor. "Carlisle? Esme? I don't think I can do this alone."

His parents were at his side before he finished speaking. Esme's wide smile transformed her already beautiful face into something truly other worldly, even by vampire standards. Her thoughts were as joyful and sanguine as her smile, and Carlisle's were very nearly equal. She hugged him tightly as Carlisle looked to him and silently asked for his approval before reaching out and opening a trunk.

The anticipation was so palpable, so electric, Edward could almost believe it would restart his frozen heart.

In seconds, Carlisle looked to him, and the disappointment in his eyes was painful to see.

"Knitting. And clothing."

Edward closed his eyes and leaned his entire weight against Esme.

"There are other trunks, Edward. This is only the first. When I packed these I was distracted."

Distracted…. Carlisle had been terrified. Edward could see Carlisle's thoughts as clearly as if he was watching the events unfold before him right now. He saw Carlisle's memories of watching helplessly as he writhed in agony, unsure if he had done it correctly, if the change was progressing as it should or if the influenza would still claim him. Edward saw Carlisle's certainty that his duplicity would be discovered at the hospital and that there would be thousands of people descending on them with burning torches any second…. The guilt and anguish in both Carlisle's and Edward's aunt's voices when Carlisle had had to tell her of his and his mother's deaths…. His fear that Edward would despise him for what he had done….

"I did not pay any attention at all to what I was placing in what trunk. I wish now that I had." Carlisle left one thing out of his unnecessary apology, but Edward heard it in his thoughts now as he had many times before.

Even though he'd spit it out, Carlisle's first taste of human blood was ringing through his entire body, and he'd had to focus every bit of his attention and will to fight the burning desire for more.

To this day, Carlisle carried tremendous guilt and shame that despite his best intentions, in that moment he'd thought of Edward's blood as much as he'd thought of his well-being, and that he'd needed to be away from him for a short while to regain control of himself still weighed heavily on him.

In total, there were six trunks filled with belongings from his home. Edward had begun to despair of the letters not being there after all after the third trunk, and by the time they were halfway through the sixth trunk, he had given up all hope. Finally, Carlisle pulled the last item from the last of the trunks with a hopeful smile on his face and desperation in his thoughts. It was a large, manilla envelope–the type that would have likely held legal documents–which finalized it in all their minds. The letters were not there. This was probably nothing but more of his father's papers.

Now, Edward wished he'd done this alone. His own disappointment at not finding Bella's letters was bad enough, but the disappointment echoed in his parents thoughts made his own multiply.

Crushed, he was just about to leave and go for a long solitary run when Esme's thoughts halted him.

_Edward! Wait! _

Certain she was going to try to dissuade him from leaving, Edward turned to her reluctantly. Esme was sitting in the exact position she had while Carlisle and he had gone through the trunks together, but now there were letters scattered all over her lap. Several dozen of them. Some on paper torn from a spiral-bound notebook–something that had not existed in 1918–and some on stationary trimmed in purple.

Purple. His Bella must like purple.

He hadn't known that. He hadn't even wondered. What other colors did she like? What other favorites did she have? There was so much he wanted to know about her. Edward felt like he was moving in slow motion as he dropped to his knees next to Esme.

Dear Lord…. There were _pictures_. She'd sent him _pictures_.

The first picture he saw in the pile was clearly taken from an airplane. Had she taken this for him when she visited her father over Easter? Had he known she was flying before she sent it to him? What, he wondered, had his human 1918 self's reaction to that been?

Edward ran his hands gently, reverently over the pile of strewn papers already knowing what picture he would find. The one he'd seen in Tanya's mind of Bella and her father together on Charlie's mantle. She had to have sent it to him, and he'd recognized it, recognized her. He hadn't been going crazy. He'd simply recognized his mate in a photograph he hadn't seen in nearly a century that she'd sent him several decades before she'd been born. What could be more simple? Was that picture the first time he'd seen her face then, too?

There was just too much. He wanted to find that picture, but he wanted to read one of her letters. But _which_ letter? How could he pick which one of the dozens to read first? Edward's eyes were already roaming over the pile and memorizing the exposed words down to the exact formation of every letter in every word. His name was visible on one, but as he reached for it another drew his attention, then another, then another.

Just before his fingertips touched one of Bella's letters the sun came out from behind one of the scattered clouds and a ray of light ghosted across his hand. Edward drew back and cradled his hand against his chest as if he'd been burned.

"Edward? What is it, dearest?"

_It's overwhelming, I know. Take your time. They've waited for you to find them for a very long time, and they aren't going anywhere. They won't bite. _

Carlisle's attempt at humor to help relax him went unnoticed. "What if I rip them? They're so old. They could be fragile."

Esme reassured him. "The ink is a little faded, but not too badly. The paper itself looks well preserved. It has barely yellowed." She squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Whenever I remodel a house for us, I always create a storage area where the temperature and humidity remain constant. They have been protected from light. There is no mold or insect damage. I think they are in quite good condition. You will need to be gentle with them, of course, but not much more so than normal."

Edward still hadn't moved.

"I promise, they are real. They will not turn to dust when you touch them, nor will they disappear."

Edward ran his hand over his face and looked briefly at the only mother he could remember before turning his eyes back to the pile of letters. He asked, "When did you become the mind reader around here?"

Carlisle stood and held his hand out to his mate in a gentlemanly but unnecessary gesture, as though she might need the assistance to rise from the floor. Esme randomly chose a letter and handed it to Edward before carefully dislodging the others covering her lap, accepted her husband's hand, and rose gracefully to stand beside him. "We will leave you to it," she said.

"What? You're… leaving?" Was this how he felt as a human on his first day of school when his mother turned to leave?

"Edward, you've waited a long time to meet your mate. You don't need us here for this."

Edward almost felt frightened as he looked at the letter in his hand, but just seeing "Dear Edward" in Bella's handwriting sent such a jolt of electricity through him he had the letter read and memorized word for word in seconds.

After five more letters read and memorized in under a minute, Edward picked up a picture and froze. THE picture. It was THE picture. He could see she had written on the back of it and flipped it over. "With my dad." Looking at her smiling face, Edward knew he could happily sit forever and just look at her.

He looked back at the pile of her letters. In a flash, he'd already read six of them and seen two pictures. With the rest of them, Edward forced himself to slow down. He wanted to savor this, not rush through it. Over the next several hours, Edward devoured each of the letters multiple times and stared starry-eyed at each of her pictures. There were several pictures but only three of her–the one with her father and two of just her.

As a seventeen-year-old with a 1918 understanding of the world, she must have blown him away. The end of the war. Television. Astronauts. Computers. And flying.

And, oh, dear Lord… _that dress…_

And the White Sox. Edward smiled and shook his head. His Bella wasn't only beautiful, she was sneaky, too. She'd told him the Sox had won another World Series. She'd just neglect to mention the fact that they hadn't won any others in the intervening eighty-eight years.

She'd painted a picture of his family on a picnic for him.

They'd exchanged locks of hair. The thought brought an even bigger smile to his face. When he'd seen her today, she'd been playing with a strand of hair that was definitely shorter than the rest. That was why it was shorter. That was where she'd cut her hair to send it to him.

Where was the lock of hair? It definitely wasn't with the letters. Edward had to find it. He had easily found the painting the moment he read about it. It was in with all of his things from his bedroom. He was sure the lock of her hair would have had to have been in his room, too, but if he hadn't hidden it with her letters, where would have hidden it? Edward began to worry. What if he _hadn't _hidden it in his room? What if he had put it somewhere else? Someplace Carlisle hadn't had time to look?

That lock of hair was all of his mate he would ever hold in his hands; he had to find it.

Edward began to dig through the trunks again desperately looking for it. There had been a…. _There!_ In his hands, Edward held a large, gold locket. Definitely a man's, meant to be carried in a pocket; it was too big to be a woman's. He opened it with shaking hands–astonished, Edward looked at his hands; they were actually shaking.

The locket's contents were even better than Edward had hoped; it held not only Bella's lock of hair but two others as well.

His parents. He had locks of his parents', _his_ _human parents_, hair.

Edward had learned so much about Bella by reading her letters, but he'd also learned more about his family and friends than he could ever have hoped to know. The scarf and gloves she was wearing in the picture with her father had been gifts from him, made for her by his mother_. _And he hadn't just learned about his family from his own time, but from hers–now theirs–too.

Michael Masen from Chicago. His cousin, twice removed, whom she'd originally believed to be his owngrandson but in actuality the grandson of a cousin Edward couldn't remember. Edward had already known of his cousins from Carlisle, but only very little. They must've been close though, if he'd told them about her. Edward laughed, wishing he could remember that conversation and thinking he really had been lucky they didn't have him committed on the spot.

And Michael Masen has a brother and sister in Chicago. More cousins. Did they have children? Edward knew he could find them easily if he wanted to. Did he want to? _Should _he want to? Michael Masen had given Bella the desk that had somehow made what they'd shared possible. Had his grandfather, _Edward's cousin_, told him to? The least he could do was make sure he was OK, make sure they were all OK. Make sure there was nothing any of them needed.

Edward picked up another letter. He was supposed to have sailed on the Titanic with his parents, but for some reason, they'd gone on a different ship. Why, he wondered?

Bella had sent him a poem after his father had died. His Bella had said she wished she could be there with him and hold his hand. Edward looked at his hands and felt even farther away from her now then he had been then. His hands were weapons now. If he ever tried to hold his Bella's hand now, he could accidentally crush it so easily.

Edward looked out the window. He'd been there for hours; the sun had long since set, and he could see countless stars.

No. They weren't countless. Not to him. He could count them easily if he chose, but his Bella couldn't. She couldn't even see all of them. That was just one more difference between them, and it highlighted all the reasons he could never let her find him.

Edward's hand clutched at his chest. How many times could his heart break in one day before the rest of his body turned to dust, too?

He couldn't continue to write to her. He had to let her go. He had to let his Bella go so she could let him go and live her life. No matter how much it hurt, Edward knew what he had to do, and he gathered up everything she'd sent him and the gold locket. They'd be in his room from now on. They were all he would ever have of his mate, and he wanted to have them near him.

Once back in his room, Edward sat down to write to his mate one last time. His Bella would have to know it could only be from him, and it had to make everything he wanted for her clear. It was only three short sentences, but yet another piece of his heart crumbled away with the truth of each word he wrote.

Once finished, Edward ran through the darkened forest back toward her campsite. Quickly finding Tanya's thoughts, he went straight to her.

She grinned when she saw him. "Hey there, cuz'. I've been wondering when you'd show up. Sun's been down for hours already. What took you so long?" Returning her gaze to the direction of the flimsy fabric tents that were all that protected their reasons for existing from the night chill, she silently continued, _We make quite the pair, don't we? Sitting in the treetops listening to humans breathe. Good thing you turned me down all those times. Could be a bit awkward now with my practically being your mother-in-law and all._

Tanya turned to elbow him in the ribs, but seeing the pain and regret in his eyes she misunderstood and was instantly crouched next to him and ready to pounce. _Don't make me fight _with _Fido _against _you, Edward. I will._

It was like pouring salt in a wound that Tanya recognized him as a threat to his Bella.

"She's my mate, Tanya. I love her. I could never hurt her."

Edward looked at his hands helplessly as he spoke. What he said was far from the truth. He could hurt her so very easily. If he even tried to just give her a hug, he could crush her ribs and spine. If he tried to touch her face, he could fracture her skull. Edward already knew he could never do either of those things, but picturing the outcome if he ever dared try was worse than being ripped to pieces and burned could ever be.

Tanya relaxed her pose, but only slightly, and looked at him skeptically. "She's also still your singer."

"Doesn't matter. It doesn't bother me anymore." She looked doubtful. "Tanya, Alice…. I thought she was going to die. I didn't think I'd make it in time…. You don't know what that was like."

Tanya arched her eyebrow questioningly and started to speak, but he held his hand up to stop her. "I know you _can imagine_, but you _don't_ _know."_

Tanya put her hand on his shoulder gently, both offering her support and demonstrating her trust. _You've never been Mr. Life of the Party, Edward, but you look like you've just been told there's a meteor speeding toward Earth and we've only got two days left to live._ _She's your mate, and she's here. You were in time, and the scent of her blood doesn't both you anymore. It'll get cloudy again in a couple days–this sunny weather can't last forever. I'll introduce you, and she'll fall as in love with you as you are with her, again, and we'll all live happily ever after. Literally._

Edward slowly shook his head, his eyes fixed on a brand-new one-person tent visible to him through the trees.

After hearing his decision, Tanya spent the next hour calling him every word for stupid she knew–and with all the languages she'd learned over a millennium, she knew a lotof words for stupid.

But Edward was resolved. "What choice do I have? I can't ever be with her the way I want to, and we can't even ever just be friends. What would happen when she inevitably started to wonder why I never seem to age? Losing her after being a part of her life would be infinitely worse. And it would hurt her, too. I can't hurt her again."

"First off, what happened to her was not your fault. It wasn't something you did on purpose. You got sick. And secondly, yes, you _can_ be with her _the way you want to be."_ Tanya continued with her thoughts, _I'm with Charlie _like that_. Quite often, actually. _

"Yes, but you had hundreds of years and thousands of partners to practice on, and not all of your first several dozen or so attempts ended well for your friend."

There was nothing Tanya could say to that. She took Edward's hand in hers and rested her head on his shoulder, _Edward, I am going to tell Charlie the truth one day, and I hope he will choose to join me. Bella would choose to be with you, if you give her the chance. I'm sure of it. She's doing so much better now than she was when first she arrived, but she's still so sad. You can see it all over her face. She's hurting still. Once she goes back to Phoenix…. Edward, I'm afraid for her. Alice says she'll relapse. I understand your concerns, I do. But you can't just leave her. She loves you, and she needs you. _

"I'm not going to just leave her. I'm going to say goodbye. I never got to say goodbye last time."

"Edward–"

"No, Tanya, please. Hear me out. I know what to do. I have one last letter for her. She'll understand. She'll be able to let me go after she reads it."

_How are _you_ going to let _her_ go? _

There was a sudden unmistakable stench in the air followed by a low rustling noise and the sound of the padded feet of a very large animal as it tried and failed to move silently through the underbrush. Tanya and Edward both rolled their eyes.

_Now you've done it. You've woken the pup._

An enormous, russet-colored wolf as tall as a horse and twice as wide emerged from the trees snarling and baring its teeth at them.

Tanya said, "Good evening, Jacob. Good to see you again. This is my cousin, Edward Cullen. I don't believe you've been formally introduced." Turning to Edward she continued, "Edward, this is Jacob Black. Ephraim Black's great grandson. You remember Ephraim Black." Tanya returned her attention to Jacob. "Anyway, we're terribly sorry we woke you. Be a good little doggie and go back to bed now. Shoo." She waved him away dismissively as she swung her legs back and forth in a childlike manner.

Edward bared his teeth. Jacob's mind was filled with thoughts of both his intense hatred for them–Edward in particular after he'd covered their campsite with his scent and venom–and his childish possessiveness of _his mate_, and it was really pissing Edward off. The mutt was practically claiming dibs on Bella.

"I'm in no mood to deal with mad dogs tonight, so either learn to climb a tree or go play dead somewhere." _At least once Bella is back in Phoenix_, Edward told himself, _she will be safe from adolescent werewolves with crushes_. He sniggered. _Puppy love_.

_Leech wouldn't talk so tough if it wasn't fifty feet off the ground._

Edward heard the taunt in Jacob's mind, and in response, he pushed off from the bough he was sitting on and landed less than five feet away from him. "I'd gladly help you with the dead part."

_Don't forget that shirt you're wearing was a gift from Alice. She'll gladly "help _you _with the dead part" if you so much as get it dirty. _

"Don't let James go to your head, Fido. There were five of you, _five_, and he was unskilled and untrained as a fighter. You are alone, and I assure you, I am neither unskilled nor untrained. Leave. Now." As Edward spoke his voice was little more than an angry growl, and he advanced slowly, predatorily toward Jacob.

_Enough, Edward. He's just a child. A very impolite and smelly one, granted, but still just a child._

"Disobedient children need to be taught lessons."

Jacob snapped his bared teeth and lunged directly at Edward.

Hearing his plan of attack in his mind, Edward leapt to his right, easily avoiding the long, dagger-like teeth. He grabbed hold of a low branch on a nearby spruce and using it to swing himself around, he landed only inches behind Jacob. Before the wolf could turn his massive body to lunge again, Edward grabbed him from behind, lifting him off the ground, one arm around his thick neck, the other wrapped tightly under his front left leg. Both arms were constricting enough to cause pain but not enough to cause injury, and Jacob roared and thrashed his legs wildly.

"Lesson number one. Don't pick fights. Especially fights you cannot hope to win."

_Edward, stop this now! You're making too much noise! You'll wake the humans. If they hear a noise in the woods, they could come investigate. You could wake Bella. If she hears a noise in the trees, she may come to investigate thinking it's you. Do you want that?"_

No. No he didn't.

Unbeknownst to the dogs, Edward could hear the incensed thoughts of Jacob's packmates in his mind just as clearly as Jacob could, and he knew they believed he was going to kill him and would be here soon en masse. He sighed and dropped Jacob unceremoniously to the ground. He could hear the angry thoughts of the alpha asking Jacob just what the hell he thought he was doing and did he _want_ to start a war? But as angry as the Alpha was, his thoughts were fiercely protective, almost father-like.

"I'm sure your littermates will be here soon. Run along now. Go, play." Edward laughed mockingly. "If you're all good little boys and take turns, you could play fetch."

The Alpha ordered Jacob to meet them, and he had no choice but to obey. He gave Edward one last look of pure loathing which Edward matched in spades before sprinting off into the trees. Shaking his head, he rejoined Tanya. "They're too far away already. I can't hear them."

_Carlisle is not going to be happy, you know. _

"I know."

_You didn't really hurt him, did you? He really is just a child. He's only just sixteen. _

Edward was distracted from answering her immediately by checking on his goodbye letter to Bella in the inside pocket of his jacket. No, he hadn't really hurt Fido, but if the letter was so much as creased, Edward would kill him.

_Is that it?_

"Hm?"

_The letter, is that it?_

"Oh, um, yeah,"

"Edward," the pleading tone of Tanya's voice made him look up, "you're making a mistake."

Nothing Tanya said, no arguments she made, no reasoning, no pleading, nothing swayed him. Out of all the thrumming heartbeats surrounding them, Edward instinctively knew which one was Bella's. The only way to have what he wanted was to stop her heart from beating, and he would never allow that.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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Edward wouldn't be Edward if he didn't make his life more difficult than it needed to be, now would he? Don't worry, he'll come around.

I've had so many people ask why Carlisle didn't immediately tell Edward what he figured out that I wanted to explain why he waited. I don't think telling your son that his mate is a different species and that even though she is only 17, you knew her 91 years ago isn't something you can just blurt out. I wrote my Edward will all of canon Edward's hang ups, souless monster etc., and Carlisle knows him well enough to foresee the issues Edward is likely to have with a his mate being human. He just needed time to plan what to say. Also, just because Carlisle suspects/knows that Edward loved Bella when he was human and clearly still has feelings for her even if he can't remember her, he has no idea how Bella felt about Edward - for all he knows, it could have just been friendship. He has no way of knowing if she returned his feeling then, or how she would feel about him now that he's no longer human And I think there'd likely be some self-doubt; its a pretty incredible theory, and Carlisle had no proof. He didn't have the letters to confirm his theory. He knew where they were, or at least where they should have been, but I think that would be an awfully big invasion of Edward's privacy to go looking for them, even if it was with good intentions.

According to Weather Underground, Forks had four sunny days in a row from August 16 - 19, 2009. (I know, I know, I've gone overboard. I'm anal, and I need help.)

Drop me a review and let me know if you liked it!


	25. Chapter 25

As always, thank you to my lovely PTB betas for all their help, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Oh, boy! We're half way through! Wahooooo!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

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"Just exactly what is this supposed to be, Missy?"

Bella took a deep breath and responded as patiently as possible, "It's baked chicken with stewed tomatoes and rice, Mr. Owens."

"More like shoe leather and slop. Take it back, and you tell'em I want a steak. A thick, rare T-bone steak. And fried potatoes. You go back there in that there kitchen, and you tell'em I want fried potatoes. And mind you, I want fresh ones. _With _the skins. None a'that frozen crap."

Mr. Owens was one of the newer residents of the Camelback Mountain Veterans' Home. He'd been admitted three weeks ago after being released from the hospital following a heart attack.

He was also quite possibly the world's most miserable old man, and God forgive her, but veteran or not, Bella had had about all she could stand of him. Personally, it was Bella's opinion that the old man would be more likely to have caused a heart attack in others rather than to have suffered from one himself. She'd slowly counted to ten and had taken more calming breaths in the past three weeks than she could remember. "I'm sorry, Mr. Owens. You know I can't do that."

"Is there a problem?"

Bella sighed in relief as one of the nurses came over to deal with Mr. Owens. It might be passing the buck, but at least the other woman got paid for it.

"You're damn straight there's a problem here, Missy. Tryin' to pass this slop off as food. I won't eat it."

He pushed the plate aside, and Bella managed to grab it just before it flew off the edge of the table. _He's an old man. He's an old man, and he's a veteran. You decided to volunteer here to help the veterans, just like Edward did._ The words had become a mantra in these past three weeks. _He's an old man, and he's lost his independence. He's bound to be angry. It's not his fault. Be patient with him. He's a veteran. You're here to help veterans, just like Edward did._

"Don't know what the world is comin' to today. No respect anywhere. Why, in my day, young'uns were taught to respect their elders. Not today. No siree Bob, stick'em in a home and forget about'em," Mr. Owens grumbled. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Owens got few visitors.

Bella took the plate of stewed tomatoes back to the cart to be returned to the kitchen, but she could still hear Mr. Owens berating the poor nurse as she started handing out dessert to the residents who'd already finished dinner.

"Don't you mind the old coot, my dear girl. And don't you let him get to you, neither. I've known Randal Owens most of my life. He was as miserable when he was young as he is now." Mr. Miller patted her hand. He had been a resident ever since he'd broken his hip in a bad fall several months before, and he quickly became her favorite. She took his dinner plate and placed his dessert in front of him. He poked his fork at the small, molded orange Jell-O on his plate in disappointment. "Terrible thing to do to a piece of fruit."

Sitting next to Mr. Miller was Mr. Reynolds. He looked at his Jell-O with even less enthusiasm. "What I wouldn't give for a nice piece of apple pie. A real, homemade apple pie, with a flaky crust and cinnamon. Served hot. With ice cream. Real ice cream. With the little black specks of vanilla bean in it."

"Have to admit, Owens may be an old S.O.B., but I'd just about give my right arm for a T-bone and fried potatoes."

"Give me a chocolate malted."

"Oh, popcorn—with real butter. Or a candy apple. Oh, caramel corn."

Bella smiled as the friends at the table reminisced about the foods they weren't allowed to have anymore. Tanya had given her copies of all of her muffin recipes before she'd left Forks three months ago, maybe if she showed them to the dietician, she could get approval to bring some in quietly for Mr. Miller and his friends. The recipes were surprisingly healthy. Applesauce instead of oil. Whole wheat flour. Egg whites only, no yolks. And every single one had fruit— even the chocolate ones had banana, and she hadn't even noticed.

"Don't suppose there's any cheesecake hiding back there in that there kitchen?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Mr. Michaels," Bella responded.

"No, I didn't suppose there was." Mr. Michaels shook his plate gently and watched the Jell-O jiggle. He sighed and shook his head, "I tell ya', my dear girl, this getting old business is for the birds. Can't say as I recommend it."

Bella buckled as if she'd been punched in the stomach and grabbed her locket as a sudden spasm of pain grabbed her. She beat back the pain and straightened her back quickly, but her reaction had caught the attention of all at the table. Their bodies may have begun failing them, but Mr. Miller's and his friend's minds were sharp as tacks.

Mrs. Robbins, one of the few female residents, looked at her in concern and took her hand. "My dear, are you quite alright?"

Mrs. Robbins was the widow of a World War II veteran, the mother of six, the grandmother of nineteen, and the great-grandmother of four, including newborn twins. Bella hesitated for a moment and considered saying she was fine, but there was something so naturally maternal and companionate in the old woman's lined face that she spoke before she had the chance to stop herself. "My best friend died five months ago. He was only seventeen."

There was a surprised silence at the table before they all offered her their condolences. It was awkward; none of them seemed to know exactly what to say. They were all too familiar with the deaths of their friends their own age, but to be told about the death of someone so young was very unexpected and upsetting. Bella regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth. What had ever possessed her to say that? She was here to _help_ the veterans, not to depress them.

Bella remembered when the idea of working with veteran's had come to her. She'd been sitting in her father's kitchen reading the paper on her last morning in Forks when she'd seen an article on three World War I soldiers whose remains had been discovered recently in France and identified, and she'd immediately thought of Edward's friend, Albert. She had no idea if his body had ever been found, and she promised herself to try and find out as soon as she got back to Phoenix. Only the name of the local man was listed in the paper, but the others could not have been Albert. The date they'd been killed was in the article—September 16, 1918—and it was nearly a month too late. Still, Bella wished she'd had more time in Forks. The remains had been returned to their families for burial with full military honors, and even though the soldier hadn't been Edward's friend, she would have liked to have been able to go to Seattle for the funeral. Albert might have known him. They might've even fought together.

The day she'd gotten back to Phoenix, she'd looked Albert up and found his name surprisingly easily, after only a few minutes. His body had never been found—or at least, if it had been, it had never been identified. Bella knew very well that if Albert's remains were ever found and identified like those three men's had been, no matter what it took to get there, she'd be at his funeral. She'd be there to represent Edward.

In the weeks since she'd left Forks, Bella had considered saving up for a trip to Chicago to find Edward's grave, but right away she'd known she couldn't do it. He had specifically asked her not to. Remembering Edward's last words to her the morning after he'd saved her from the bear made Bella's throat tighten painfully. Edward had found a way to write to her one last time, and she understood what he was asking her to do.

She understood it, but she couldn't do it.

The only thing she could do for Edward was to continue what he had started. He had volunteered his time to help the returning war veterans of his time, and now, nearly a century later, she would do the same. She'd had no idea what career she wanted, but now she knew. She wanted to work with veterans, advocating for them, helping them get the benefits and help they'd earned and deserved.

Mrs. Robbins' voice pulled Bella's mind back to the present, and she was surprised when she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She hadn't noticed her eyes fill. Since finding Edward's last letter in her tent the morning after he'd saved her from the bear, the tears that before that wouldn't come, now came with a vengeance and without warning.

"Oh, my dear. I am so very sorry. And here you've been listening to us ramble on all this time about our old friends. Come. Sit. It helps to talk. Believe me, it does. Tell us all about him."

Bella inhaled sharply but felt like the wind had been knocked out her. She felt like no matter how deeply she breathed in, the oxygen never reached her lungs. She felt dazed, lost. Tell them about Edward? She couldn't possibly. She never should have mentioned him in the first place. What had she been thinking? Thanksgiving. Or the wedding. She should mention the wedding next weekend; that would change the subject. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but the moment she met the sincerity in the old woman's milky green gaze they died there.

Green eyes.

"Edward… his name was Edward… Masen. He… he had green eyes… and… and bronze hair… and… he was… from Chicago… and he wanted to be a soldier… and a doctor. He loved baseball, the White Sox. He and his father saw them play in the World Series. He played outfield for his school. He tried to teach me the game, but I was hopeless. He was smart… and funny… and brave. He was… wonderful. He… he got sick… and…."

Bella had never told anyone about Edward before, and she had never intended to. But Mrs. Robbins had been right; somehow, just the little bit of him that she was able to share made her feel surprisingly better. It helped push the pain back a little further, and Bella could feel her lungs fill with air as the pressure that had threatened to crush her lessened slightly. There was no need to tell them anymore, and what she had said could just as easily apply to someone today.

It made Bella feel better to know that there were now six more people in the world who knew that there had once been a young man named Edward Masen who had had hopes and dreams and had had far too little time to accomplish them_._

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Alice…"

Alice's cell phone was on her dressing table across the room, and she looked at it with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed in front of her chest. "No. I don't see why I should tell you anything. She's my friend, not yours. If you wanted to know how she was, you should have gotten to know her when you had the chance. Then you could ask her yourself."

"You know I can't do that," responded the hopeless sounding voice over the phone.

"I know nothing of the sort. You could, if you wanted to."

"Alice, we've been through this…. Just… _please._"

Alice rolled her eyes, and with one last glare at the phone she relented, "The vision is still the same."

"But… you said working at the veteran's home was making her happy. You said she had a career goal she was excited about."

As angry as Alice was with her brother, the anxiety in his voice was not lost on her. "No, I didn't," she said with less annoyance than she felt.

"Yes, you did. I remember it exactly. You said—"

"I remember it exactly, too, Edward. I said happier. _Happier. _Not happy. There's a difference." Alice was exasperated with her brother. "And yes, she is excited about working to help veterans, but Edward, can't you see what she's doing?"

"She's living her life, which is all I want for her."

"No, she's not." Alice closed her closet doors and crossed her room to pick up her phone. "You're the one with the psychiatry degree. I guess this is what they mean about loss of objectivity when the doctor is too close to his patient. She's not living _her_ life, you idiot, she's living _yours._ Can't you see that? She is doing exactly what _you_ did and planning to do exactly what _you_ had planned to do. She's not creating a life for herself. She's trying to keep _you_ with her the only way she can, by recreating _yours_. And yes, it is making her happier. But coming from where she was that's not saying much, and it's only a temporary fix. It's like a drug. It's enough for now, but it won't be for long. Just like a drug the numbing effect will wear off, and when it does the pain will come back with a vengeance."

Alice was met with only silence on the other end of the line.

"Edward, I'm sorry. I know you want the 'white picket fence and 2.5 children' life for her, but it's just not going to happen. You need to accept that."

She waited, but when her brother didn't reply, she tried something else. "Esme misses you. She and Carlisle are hunting right now. Can I tell her you'll call her tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll call her tomorrow."

"Promise? Cuz' I don't see you actually doing it."

With a tired sigh, Edward answered, "Yes, Alice. I promise."

"That's better. Can I tell her you'll come home soon?"

"Alice.…"

"Sorry. So, how's the family?"

Just as she'd expected, Edward's voice perked up a bit at the mention of his newly discovered human family. "They're great. They're all so close. It's nice to see. Rich and Michelle are going to have a baby. I can hear the heartbeat. They don't know she's pregnant yet; she thinks she has a virus. They're all having Thanksgiving dinner together next week."

"That's nice. Bella is having Thanksgiving with her mother and Phil."

"Alice…."

"Don't 'Alice' me. She's my friend, and I'm worried about her. Someone needs to be, because you sure don't seem to be."

"That's not true." Edward's voice sounded so shattered that Alice almost regretted saying it. Almost. But he was being stubborn, and Bella didn't have time for this. Alice needed to make her pig-headed, too-noble-for-his-own-good brother see reason before it was too late.

"Then _go_ to her."

There was a long, slowly released breath. "I should go."

"Yes, you should."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"Tell Esme I'll call her tomorrow."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Before Alice could say anything else, Edward hung up and leaned against the elaborately carved headstone behind him. He twisted around and stared at the names before slowly tracing them with his fingers for nearly the hundredth time, fully recognizing the irony of doing exactly what he had asked Bella not to do. It was a very strange feeling, seeing your own name on a headstone and knowing that a stranger lay six feet beneath you next to your parents. When Edward had first arrived in Chicago in early September, he'd been surprised to find flowers growing around the base of the stone, and he'd been deeply touched that someone from his human family had taken the time to plant them for distant, long deceased relatives they'd never known.

His eyes followed the slow progress of his finger along the curves and angles of his human parents' names. He must've purchased this headstone himself after his father's death. Possibly, probably, one of his uncles had accompanied him, but that, of course, was just one more thing he couldn't remember.

He ran his index finger down the T in his mother's name. He had to be gentle. The headstone was made of granite, but so was he. If he wasn't careful, he'd mar the engraving.

Edward shifted his body again as he moved on to his father's name.

It was so quiet here. And it really was a very pretty spot. Had he picked this spot, or had his father already purchased the plot, Edward wondered?

Eventually, he pulled Bella's picture and a copy of one of her letters out of his backpack. He'd made copies of each of her pictures and letters and left the originals in Forks with Esme where they'd be safe. The picture he had in his hand was the one of his mate in her dress for her mother's wedding. The wedding was in just nine days' time. Edward wished he could be there, that he could see her in person again just one more time.

He let his mind wander, imagining himself watching her, safely hidden out of sight until the sun set. Edward could almost hear the music playing in the background as he slowly approached her. Her hair would be swept up loosely away from her face with stray, wispy curls cascading down her neck—

that much he knew from Alice. The pinks and purples of the sunset would be reflected in the locket _he _gave her. As he neared, he would raise his hand to her, and she would take it with her own without even flinching at his icy touch. He would draw her against him, and they would dance together under the stars for hours.

Later that night, once she was home again, he would sneak in her bedroom window, and they would dance a very different dance together until finally, after spending the entire night making love, she would fall asleep with her head pillowed on his silent chest.

Edward moved slightly and began tracing the engraved date of his death.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Bella? Help me?"

Still in her sweats and an old t-shirt, Bella stood in the hallway outside her mother's—no, outside her mother and Phil's room while her mother stepped into her gown, waiting for her mother to call for her.

"Oh, Mom. You look.…" Bella brought her hand to her face as her voice caught in her throat.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. If you cry, I'll cry," her mother pleaded.

Bella sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Right. No crying. We can't have a blotchy bride."

Both gave a small laugh at the reminder of the constant admonishment from the salon owner after her mother's make up was done: "No crying. Brides should be beautiful, not blotchy."

Her mother turned away from her and looked back over her shoulder. "Can you do me up?"

Bella began fastening the seemingly hundreds of buttons up the back of the gown as her mother looked at herself in the mirror. "I wish I'd gotten to that jewelry store the girl at the dress store told us about," her mother said. "I kept meaning to. I just never got there."

Bella finished the top button. "There. Almost done."

"Almost?"

"Yes. Almost. Now, close your eyes."

Her mother looked back at her questioningly for a moment, but before she could ask why, Phil's sister-in-law knocked on the bedroom door. "Renee, the photographer is here. Can she come in?"

"Oh, my God. Is it that time already? Yes, please. Have her come in. Bella, honey you need to get your dress on. It's getting late."

"I'll get dressed in a minute. I have something for you first."

Renee's eyes threatened to tear up again, and Bella grabbed several tissues. "Blotchy, Mom. No blotchy brides."

Renee's breath shuddered. "Right, no blotchy brides."

"Now, face forward and close your eyes. I'll be back in a second."

"Bella..."

"One second. What are they going to do? Start without you?"

Bella hurried the few steps to her own room and retrieved the grey velvet jewelry box from their desk. Standing in front of their desk and holding the box tightly in her hand, she paused and ran her fingertips along the wood, thinking of Edward and wishing—not for the first time—that she had at least one picture of him.

Back in her mother's room, the photographer was setting up behind Renee to take a picture of her reflection in the mirror. Bella stood behind her mother on the opposite side so she wouldn't be in the way while the photographer checked her angles and camera settings. "Now, close your eyes," she said. Once her mother closed her eyes, Bella put the necklace around her neck and fastened it, saying, "Something old."

Renee's eyes welled up with tears when she saw the necklace, and she hugged Bella tightly. "Oh, Bella…."

"Blotchy, Mom. Blotchy."

When her mother let her go and leaned close to the mirror to get a closer look at the necklace, Bella had to wipe away a few tears of her own. Her mom was a real _bride_.

"Baby, it's beautiful. Thank you so much, but you shouldn't have spent your money on it."

Bella assured her that it hadn't been expensive. When she'd come back from Forks, Bella had started wearing her locket on the outside of her shirt, rather than tucked under. She'd told her mother it came from a small shop in Port Angeles with antique costume jewelry that Alice Cullen had taken her to. Now, she told her she'd gotten this necklace there at the same time.

Phil's sister-in-law and mother were in the room, and after admiring the necklace and how real it looked, Mrs. Dwyer said that the necklace was her something old, Renee's gown was her something new and her engagement ring was her something blue. Taking off her own diamond-and-pearl bracelet, she fastened it around Renee's wrist. "There, your something borrowed. _No_w you're ready."

After tears and hugs all around, Bella returned to her own room to quickly put her dress on. She thought she might've needed help with the zipper, but with some twisting and stretching, she managed it herself. Looking at herself in her mirror, Bella sighed. Her hair was done up; her face was made up. She barely recognized the girl looking back at her, and she looked over at their desk for encouragement. "Well? How do I look?"

"You look beautiful, baby."

Bella turned to her door where her mother stood holding their bouquets of pink and white roses with sprigs of lavender and baby's breath.

It was time to get this party started.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Soooo…. How was the wedding? Tell me _everything_."

Bella was sitting on the patio looking up at the stars. Or rather, the lack thereof. Because of the lights from the city she could practically count all the stars she could see on one hand. "It was fine."

"What's wrong? You don't sound like it was fine. The caterers didn't drop the cake, did they?" Alice knew very well there'd been no problems. She'd have seen it if there had been. Normally, she didn't see humans as well as she did vampires, but she was so concerned about her friend and had been spending so much time watching for any change in her future that she had become very attuned to her, and right now, she was very worried. Bella sounded so down; the sadness that was always an echo in her voice was much more prominent than normal.

"No. No problems."

"What's wrong then? You like Phil, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Phil's great. They're very happy together."

"Bells, please. You're unhappy. I can tell. Talk to me."

"Really, I'm fine. It's just…."

Alice gave her a moment, hoping Bella would continue on her own, before asking, "Just what?"

There was no answer at first, and it took Alice every bit of control she had to give Bella the time she needed. When she finally did answer, her answer managed to surprise the psychic vampire, which was no easy task.

"There are no stars."

"Sorry, what?"

"In Phoenix. There are no stars. Or hardly any anyway."

"O… K…."

"In Forks, there are stars."

"What Forks are you talking about? Cuz' in the Forks I know there's pretty much just clouds."

"Over the summer there were stars. When I went camping with my dad, the sky was mostly clear for four straight days, and at night there were so many stars. They were so beautiful…. I'd never been camping before. It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be, really. It was actually… kinda nice. I liked it. I liked it a lot. Go figure."

Alice was lying across her bed with her phone in one hand and her other hand resting at the head of her bed when she was suddenly struck by a vision so unexpected she bolted upright in surprise, breaking off a chunk of her custom-made headboard in the process. The rest of the family gathered around her immediately. Jasper sat on the edge of their bed next to her and took the splintered wood from her hand. "Darlin' what is it? What did you see?"

Before Bella continued, Alice answered her husband too quietly and quickly for her human friend to hear, "Get that _idiot_ on the phone, and get him home _NOW._"

Emmett tossed his phone to Jasper, but Alice shook her head. "No. Esme. It has to be Esme. He won't listen to anyone else." She looked in desperation to the woman they all loved as their mother. "Don't stop calling 'til he answers. Do whatever you have to. Say whatever you have to. Beg him. Guilt trip him. Whatever. _But get him home._"

As Jasper handed Esme the phone, he asked her again what she had seen.

"Bella, walking out of school toward a motorcycle, then nothing."

Her family glanced at each other quickly before Jasper, rubbing her back tenderly, asked Alice if she thought Bella had been in an accident.

"No. I didn't see _anything_. _Nothing at all. _Her future just _vanished._" She looked at her father. "_Jacob Black _was on the motorcycle. I saw that much, then nothing."

Carlisle was stunned. "Jacob Black was in Phoenix?"

"No. _Bella was in Forks_."

The conversation between the Cullens had taken less than five seconds, and Bella continued what she had been saying, completely unaware the other conversation had taken place at all. "We had a fire every night and made s'mores and popped popcorn. It was really nice. Jake brought _piles_ of driftwood because he remembered I liked the driftwood bonfire we saw on the beach when I was there over Easter, so the fire was blue."

Hearing their son and brother's mate refer so casually, and with such obvious affection in her voice, to someone who could so easily destroy Edward's every chance of happiness was very difficult for the entire family, especially so immediately after Alice's revelation. For Alice to have had that vision, Bella had to have at least considered the idea of moving to Forks, however passingly, and Jacob Black played some part in that consideration.

When Alice spoke again, the panic and hatred burning in her throat were competing for dominance and making it hard to speak. She tried to keep both out of her voice. "Jacob Black? Your father's friend's son?"

"Um, yeah. He's not so bad really. We didn't hit it off great over Easter, but we hung out a lot in August, and he was really nice. And he's called me a couple times since I got back to Phoenix. He's really funny. He makes me laugh. He went fishing with our dads the first day of the camping trip, but the rest of the trip he stayed behind with me. They have a really nice waterfall trail, and we hiked it together. I can't believe I hiked in the woods and didn't break anything, but any time I tripped, he caught me before I could fall. I still don't understand why they don't like your family. It sucks that my two friends don't get along."

Alice was frantically twisting her hands in her bed sheets and tearing them to shreds. Her voice was strangled and desperate when she spoke to her mother, "Esme?"

"He hasn't answered yet."

"Keep calling. Oh, I hope that idiot is happy now."

"Alice?"

The uncertainty in her friend's voice forced the image of herself ripping her brother's arms off and beating him with them out of Alice's mind for the moment. "I'm here," she said.

"You're not mad, are you?"

That was twice now that Bella had surprised her. "Mad? At you? Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?"

"Well, it's just…. I know they… don't like your family… for some reason. But… I didn't mention that Jake and I have been talking on the phone since I got back before because I don't know… how… you feel… about them."

Alice swallowed hard and tried to sound natural, as if they were totally indifferent to the Blacks and the rest of the tribe, as if they didn't matter at all.

As if her brother's future wasn't held in the palms of people who would love nothing more than to destroy them.

"Oh, Bella. Please don't worry about that. We really don't care what they think about us."

"It's just…. Tanya is very patient with their attitude. I know she's trying to keep the peace to make my dad happy. But, I don't know _you_ feel. Do you mind if I'm friends with him, too?"

"Bella, all I want is for you to be happy. Please, believe that."

"Alice?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't they like you?"

Alice's and Carlisle's worried eyes met just as Edward answered his phone. "Jeez, Emmett. Who's on fire?"

Expecting to hear his brother's boisterous voice and being met instead by his mother's distressed, "Oh, Edward! Oh, thank heaven," and Alice's furious, "Edward, I am going to rip you apart and burn the pieces!" paralyzed Edward with fear, and all he could manage was to weakly choke, "Bella?"

"Sounds like she's got herself a new pet, bro. Think Fido's housebroken?" Emmett chipped in.

"Really, Emmett. That's hardly helpful," Esme scolded.

"Alice?" Over the line, Bella's voice was hesitant.

Edward heard his mate's voice, and it cut through him like a knife. He was half elation at the sound of her voice and half desperation at the pain in that voice, and Edward's words poured out of him like water through a breached dam. "Is Bella there? Esme, where are you? Are you at home? What happened? Is Bella there? Is she with you? Is she OK? What's going on? Why does she sound so upset?"

Alice answered him before Esme could. "She's upset because she thinks you're dead, you idiot!" Turning to her father, she asked, "Carlisle, what should I say?"

"Tell her not to worry about it. Tell her there was a misunderstanding years ago that seems much more important than it really was. Will she accept that? Can you see?"

Alice repeated what Carlisle said, trying to sound as relaxed as possible. She continued, "Now, tell me all about the wedding. I bet you looked beautiful. Did you wear your hair up like you said or did you change your mind?"

Bella hesitated for a moment before answering, "No, I… I wore it up. It seem—"

"Oh, good. Your locket is so pretty, and with your hair up it'd be more noticeable. You'll have to send me pictures."

"My… locket?"

"Mhm, I noticed it when you were trying on clothes in your room. It's an antique, right? It's really pretty."

"I didn't realize you'd noticed it."

"Please. Me? Not notice 18K gold? Never happen. With garnets and pearls, right? Was it a gift?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah, it was. Alice, I'm sorry. I gotta go."

"OK, I'll talk to you later. Don't forget to send me those pictures. I can't wait to see you in your dress."

Alice had barely gotten the words out before Bella hung up without saying goodbye, but she still had Edward to deal with.

"Alice, what happened?" he asked in a panic.

"I told you you were making a mistake! I told you she needed you! We all did! But did you listen? NO! So now YOUR MATE AND MY FRIEND, is friends with a WEREWOLF! A WEREWOLF! Who just so happens to be looking to be MORE THAN FRIENDS! Are you happy now, Mr. Know-It-All? Now, get your sorry ass back here and FIX THIS!"

The line went dead before Alice finished yelling at him.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Across the country in Chicago, Edward was standing in the middle of the hotel room he'd rented with the lump of mangled black plastic and wires that was until moments ago his cell phone clenched tightly in his fist. He was unable to move a muscle. The pain was too much. He wasn't even able to unclench his fist. His Bella…. His beautiful, precious Bella….

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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After hanging up from Alice, Bella returned to her room and curled up on her bed. She didn't know why Alice's mentioning her locket had hit her so hard, but it had. When she'd gotten back from Forks, she'd untucked it from under her shirt and had worn it that way ever since. Her mom and Phil had both complimented it, as had Sonya and the residents at the assisted living home. She didn't _like_ talking about it, partially because she had to lie about it, but she didn't _mind_ it.

She missed Edward so much, some nights Bella opened the locket and just held the lock of his hair in her hands, but she still hadn't been able to look at his letters. Except for the one she found the morning after he'd saved her from the bear, that is. That one she'd read over and over, day after day. Bella wanted to read it again, but she was so tired all of a sudden and moving just took too much energy.

Instead of opening her locket, she held it tightly with both hands.

Why had Alice's mentioning it affected her like that? Was it because Alice had known it wasn't costume and that it was an antique? Was it because she somehow seemed to know it had been a gift? Had she, unknowingly, come too close to the truth? What if she asked who it was from? What could she say? Whatever the reason, Bella had felt like the world had flipped upside down, and she couldn't tell which way was up.

Alice…. There was something… not quite right about Alice. Not that there was something _wrong_ about her, but there was definitely something… _different_… about her. Something Bella couldn't put her finger on, couldn't identify, but was definitely there.

And she wasn't the only one to see it.

Bella remembered the time a few days after the camping trip when Angela and some of the other local girls had stopped by to see if she wanted to hang out with them. Her father had sent them up to her room, and when she'd opened the door for them and they'd seen Alice sitting on her bed, their smiling, laughing, open and friendly faces had suddenly morphed into something approaching the look you would expect to see on someone's face who had just walked into a room and caught someone levitating three feet off the ground.

For the first time Bella wondered about the Cullens' histories.

Three of them had been adopted as teenagers, and the other two had come to live with their cousin and her husband, also as teenagers. Why? What had happened to their parents? Was there some horrible trauma in their pasts? Did their pasts have anything to do with why the Quileutes were so against them? Or was it the doctor's or his wife's?

Also, the more Bella thought about it, the more she was sure Alice had lied to her. Whatever had happened between the Cullens and the Quileutes, it was not just some minor misunderstanding years ago. She had just been about to say that it seemed a bit extreme for the entire tribe to stop going to the hospital just because Dr. Cullen worked there if it was just a misunderstanding years ago, and now she thought that it seemed like Alice had brought her locket up to change the subject.

Bella shook her head angrily at herself. She was being ridiculous and letting her imagination run away with her. Alice probably _had_ brought up her locket to change the subject. She probably just didn't want to talk about whatever the Quileutes' problem with them was. Alice was such a social, outgoing person that it must be horrible for her to be new in town and surrounded by locals who didn't like her for something beyond her control. Of course she wouldn't want to talk about it.

And it wasn't Alice's fault that her mentioning the locket upset her so much, after all, she couldn't have known what her locket meant to her.

It was a relief that Alice wasn't upset that she was friends with Jacob now too. He could be so irrational about her friendship with Alice that Bella'd had to tell him in no uncertain terms that Alice and she were friends, and if he had a problem with that, it was exactly that, _his_ problem. She'd also had to make it clear she only saw him as a friend and nothing more, but she was still afraid he was hoping for something that was just never going to happen.

As she rolled over onto her back thinking of Edward, the words of his last letter danced in Bella's mind and gave her the strength they always did.

"_Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die."_

_._

_._

_._

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I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to all my lovely reviewers. I'm nearly finished with the HP fic I've been pulling my hair out over, I mean writing. Once that's done, I hope I'll be able to get back to responding more faithfully.

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Several reviewers have worried that Edward's good bye letter would send Bella spiraling downward, but now that you know what he wrote, I hope you'll agree that his words would've been the comfort to her that he intended them to be. He didn't pull a New Moon. He didn't take her things away and try to make her forget him or make her believe he didn't love her. He wanted her to be reassured he loved her and to be able to mourn him and move on. I think his repeating the words she'd sent him when his father died would give her the comfort he intended them to. Of course, she doesn't yet know how very true those words are! Talk about a double entendre!

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Historical Note – In September 2006, the remains of a 28-year-old WW1 soldier from Mt. Carmel, Pennsylvania were found buried with two other soldiers in a wooded area near where they were killed in battle near Bois de Bonvaux. The remains of Army Private Henry A. Weikel were eventually identified and returned home to his family for burial with full military honors in December 2010. The three men were killed on September 16, 1918—less than two months before the end of the war. I don't know if the other two men were ever identified. Edward's friend, Albert, came out of this story.


	26. Chapter 26

As always, thank you to my lovely PTB betas for all their help, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended

It had been raining for several hours and showed no signs of stopping any time soon. That was a good thing. The rain kept the humans away, and Edward could sit undisturbed and watch the water as it crashed onto the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall for as long as he wanted.

_Edward! _

Undisturbed by humans, that was. He was on his feet instantly. Alice was coming, and that could mean only one thing. The answer to his question echoed endlessly in his head even before he voiced it. _It's Bella! She's decided!_

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o

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..ooOoo..

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o

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"Mom? Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, baby. What's up?"

Renee was literally elbow deep in her newest hobby. Baking. She was kneading a large ball of dough for homemade bread and had gotten flour everywhere–all over the floor, all over the counter, and all over herself. Bella had been standing in the doorway, quietly watching her for several minutes before approaching her. It wasn't that she was unsure; she'd vacillated for days, but now she'd made her decision and was sure it was what she wanted. Her mother was a newlywed. It was time for her to be on her own with her new husband.

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"Just, please, be careful with it."

"We will, Miss. Don't worry."

"It's just, it's really old… and it was a gift." Bella anxiously watched the movers they'd hired to transport their desk from Phoenix to Forks as they wrapped it with heavy duty, industrial bubble wrap and heavy tarps. She nervously hovered over them like a worried mother as they lifted the heavy mahogany desk and placed it carefully on the flat bed trolley to take it to the moving truck parked in the driveway. Bella was so nervous, she felt nauseous. She felt like she was being ripped in half. She hadn't even been this nervous when she'd told her mother of her decision to move to Forks.

As the men pushed their desk through the house, she followed them, and as they loaded it onto the truck and secured it, she watched them.

"Sign here, please, Mrs. Dwyer."

One of the men handed her mother a clipboard with the agreement for her to sign, and her mother glanced at her disapprovingly before signing it and handing him a check for payment. The check was her mother's, but the money was Bella's. She was paying for this herself, and it was costing her a good portion of her college savings, but it was worth every penny. Her parents didn't approve of her spending so much money to take their desk with her, but they didn't have any idea of just how much that desk meant to her.

To them, it was just a desk.

To her, it was a physical link to Edward, and there was no way in hell was she ever going anywhere without it.

Bella watched in silence as the man handed her mother a copy of the signed agreement, and he and his partner climbed into the cab of the truck. The other two men climbed into a pick up, and in just a few moments both trucks drove away, taking a very large piece of her with them.

She briefly considered running down the street after them.

With a sigh, Bella followed her mother back into the house. Neither spoke. It was mid-morning. Her flight to Seattle was in six hours. In thirteen hours, she'd be in Forks. Phil was at the batting cages; there really was no such thing as the offseason when you're hoping to get called up to the majors. Plus, Bella thought he was trying to give them some time alone on her last morning in Phoenix.

Either that, or he was trying to escape her mother's tears.

Every time her approaching move to Forks had been brought up, her mother had started to cry. Every single time, without fail. Today though, now that the big day was finally here, she was different. She was stoic, but distant.

When Bella had first broached the subject of her moving to Forks about a week after the wedding, her mother had been disbelieving. That disbelief had first shifted to tears and guilt. The guilt had then shifted to attempts at persuasion, which had shifted back to disbelief and started the cycle again. But always, the tears remained. Except today. Today, there was just this tense, awkward silence.

Bella's relationship with her mother had always been a close and open one, and she desperately did not want to leave on this uncomfortable note.

She followed her mother into the kitchen, and Renee kicked off her flip flops and pulled an apple nut coffee cake out of the oven. It smelled really good, and Bella told her mother so. Her mother gave her a sad smile as she ran a knife along the sides and easily flipped it out of the pan and onto a wire rack like a pro.

Bella was impressed, at least her mother and Phil wouldn't have to live on take-out.

"Tanya gave me the recipe. She suggested putting a piece of parchment paper in the pan to keep it from sticking," her mother said.

Bella smiled. "That's a good idea. It seems to work." It was a good idea, and it was one that she herself had suggested many times to no avail.

She got up and went to the refrigerator to get the orange juice, and her mother took two glasses and plates from the cupboard. It was odd, but Bella already felt like a guest in the home she'd grown up in, like she should've asked first, instead of just getting up and getting the juice.

Thinking back, she remembered the first moment the idea of going to live with her dad in Forks had occurred to her. She'd been at school, in art class. They'd been assigned to create an abstract painting utilizing all the colors that said "home" to them. The first colors she'd thought of on hearing the word "home" had been the greens of the trees behind her father's house.

As Bella opened the refrigerator, she heard a glass shatter. She spun around, pulled from her memory and returned immediately to the present. A glass had slipped from her mother's hand and had shattered into a million pieces on the tile floor.

And her mother had started to cry.

"Mom, you're barefoot. Don't move."

After quickly grabbing a dust mop and sweeping the glass shards aside, Bella pulled her mother into a tight hug and held her while she cried. She had no idea she'd started to cry as well until her mother wiped her tears away.

"I'm sorry, baby. I promised myself I wouldn't cry today." Her mother continued in a trembling, breathless voice, "It's just… that was the 10th day. There are only two days left."

Bella stood motionless for three seconds; then she started to laugh.

Both mother and daughter laughed while they cried, and Renee rested her forehead against Bella's as she caught her breath. Today was Saturday, January 2nd, and all the Christmas decorations were still up. Several years ago, her mother had bought a set of Christmas glasses with the twelve days of Christmas on them, and every year, without fail, at least one got broken. Apparently, only the 3rd and 7th days were left now.

The lords would leap no more.

"Sit, eat while it's still warm. I'll get the juice."

Just like that, the tension was broken, but the feeling of being a guest in the house she grew up in magnified. This wasn't her house anymore. Phoenix wasn't her home any more. And somehow, Bella knew it never would be again.

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o

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..ooOoo..

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o

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Bella's flight was delayed, and Edward was beside himself. It should've already landed in Seattle, but it hadn't even boarded yet; it was still sitting on the tarmac in Phoenix. One by one, except for Alice, the entire family had escaped to their own pursuits while Edward sat in front of his computer, his head supported on his palms, his golden eyes peeking out at the never changing flight status through splayed fingers.

Finally, after a more than three hour delay, the online flight tracker changed the status from 'Delayed' to 'In Flight', and Edward began a minute-by-minute countdown in his head until it was expected to touch down. He had expected that once he saw that Bella's flight had finally taken off, and she was on her way, getting closer to him minute by minute, his nervous anxiety would ease, but he'd been wrong. It grew and doubled until after only twenty minutes he couldn't stand it anymore.

As he gave in, grabbed his keys, and headed to his car, Alice raised her eyes briefly from the book she was pretending to read, and he heard her taunting voice in his head.

_Told you so._

"No one likes a smart ass, Alice."

_Nor a dumb one, Edward,_ came the silent reply.

Surprisingly, there was very little traffic along the 101, and doing nearly double the speed limit at times, Edward made the normally three hour plus drive to Seattle in just under two. He parked and hurried through the terminal to Bella's gate as quickly as he dared, arriving just in time to see her flight land.

Tanya caught his scent and rolled her eyes at him when she saw him mostly concealed behind a large rack of international newspapers.

_We all told you that you wouldn't be able to stay away. Even Alice, and you know better than to bet against Alice. When _will _you learn to listen to us? For all you can hear, you never listen. _

Ignoring her, Edward kept his eyes on the door his mate would soon be walking through.Although he knew better, Edward swore the humans around him were deliberately moving in slow motion. It seemed like eternity from the time the plane touched down until the passengers finally began coming down the jet way, and then like eternity again until he first saw her. But then he did see her, and it was like the world stopped spinning. He watched as his Bella smiled when she saw her father. He watched as Charlie walked up to her and put his arms around her, easily lifting her several inches off the ground as he hugged her tightly to him before setting her back down. He watched as Tanya greeted her with a much smaller but still very affectionate and welcoming hug, and heard as she directed her thoughts to him again.

_Watch. Listen. Learn. You manage to dress yourself without ripping your clothes to shreds, don't you? You can open a door without ripping it off its hinges. You play the piano with more passion and intensity than I've ever heard before without pulverizing it. Gentle. You can do this. Alice said she'd introduce you at school on Monday. Just shake her hand. You _can _do this. _

"Tanya–" Edward began to protest, but Tanya's thoughts were determined, and she cut him off.

_No. I know what you're going to say, Edward. And yes, the first several times I was with a human… it didn't end well for them, as you put it, but my situation was very different. I had only just _started _resisting drinking from humans, and those men _weren't my mate. _I cared enough to not want to hurt them, and I was disappointed in myself for not being strong enough to restrain myself, but they weren't the love of my life, my very reason for existing. You've been resisting most of your life, and you carry enormous guilt for times you did not, even though they were the worst of the worst of humans. You're much too hard on yourself, Edward. You don't give yourself nearly enough credit. In all the years I've known you, you never have. You won't accidentally hurt her; with not only your compassion for humans in general, but your love for her specifically, you couldn't possibly. You're my family, Edward, and I love you. I only want your happiness. But Bella is my family now, too. Aside from the fact that it would destroy Charlie, I love both you and Bella enough that if I thought there was any chance at all that you might accidentally hurt her, that she would be in _any _danger around you, I would not be encouraging you. _

Edward was very touched by Tanya's words, and he thanked her quietly. His eyes were glued to Bella as he drank in the sight of her as she interacted with her father and Tanya before going to get her checked luggage. Her long, glossy, chestnut hair was loose and flowing over her shoulders and down her back. Under a navy blue sweater with a deep neckline, his Bella was wearing the same white, eyelet lace sleeveless shirt she'd worn in one of the pictures she'd sent him and the gold locket he'd sent her. She was wearing the same jeans she'd worn that fateful day in August, and as Bella was sliding her arms into the dark purple, down-filled winter coat Tanya had gotten for her as a welcome gift, he only just briefly spared a thought to what Alice's reaction to Bella's wearing the same clothes repeatedly over several months would be. In Alice's world, clothes were largely one-time-use items, and Edward knew she had already purchased a closet full of Forks-weather-appropriate clothes for his Bella.

There was one royal blue cashmere sweater in particular….

While Edward's mind conjured up an image of his mate in the blue sweater, she had already slipped her bare feet into a replacement pair of Uggs identical to the ones Alice had gotten for her last April–the original pair having been burned along with everything else after his unexpected reaction to her scent–and pulled on the familiar gloves and scarf, which he now knew had been gifts from him, hand-knitted for her by his human mother.

Thankfully, Edward didn't need to pull his eyes from her to know that the light rain they'd had for the past hour had stopped. He could no longer hear it padding softly against the terminal's large windows. That was something he was very grateful for. The temperature in Phoenix today had been seventy; in Seattle, the current temperature was only in the high thirties. Though the weather made no difference to him or to any of his family, or even to the wolves, to his beautiful Bella the more than thirty degree drop would make a huge difference. At least she wouldn't have to deal with rain on top of the cold the moment she walked out of the airport.

Edward followed a short distance behind as they walked through the terminal. Bella was listening to Tanya talk excitedly about how happy both Charlie and she were that Bella was here, but even from behind, Edward could see his mate wasn't really listening.

Now that the initial, overwhelming emotion of seeing her again was settling, he could begin to really look at her. His mate looked much healthier than she had in August, he was glad to note. She'd regained the weight she'd lost, and her skin–though naturally pale like her father's–had a healthy rosy glow. But Edward was forced to admit that she was still not the same girl he had seen in people's minds from her Easter visit. She was tired; that much had to be obvious even to the humans. The long delay had to have made what would have already been a very emotional and stressful day for her even more so, but this tiredness was different. There was a weariness to her posture and the way she walked that was the result of more than just one difficult, tiring day; it went bone deep. As his Bella turned her head to respond to Tanya, Edward could see there were months-old dark circles beneath her sad, lifeless eyes. As if he needed further evidence of her exhaustion, she suddenly covered her mouth and yawned deeply.

He had done this to her.

This was what believing him to be dead had done to her. His precious Bella was fading away in front of him, and he had no idea how to help her. Even if he befriended her now as Edward Cullen, she would still mourn him as Edward Masen. Alice's vision had remained unchanged. Nothing short of her knowing the whole truth would help her, but knowing the whole truth would destroy her. It was the worst nightmare Edward could imagine.

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You're not seriously thinking about wearing that, are you?"

It was Monday morning, and the Cullens were now, for the first time ever, running late for school. Edward had followed Bella home from the airport Saturday night, and after leaving the car outside of town on the side of the highway knowing someone would come pick it up, he had run into the woods and gone straight to Charlie's house. He'd been settled into the tree that had virtually become his home last August after the ill-fated camping trip several minutes before they'd arrived home.

Edward hadn't moved from that tree until just a short while ago, when he could no longer put it off. The hours of once again listening to his mate's voice and hearing her heartbeat and the slow, steady sound of her breathing brought him more peace and happiness than he had ever realized was possible, and the two nights of listening to her talk in her sleep defied description. When she murmured his name, he knew absolutely that she was thinking of him. When she sighed, "I love you," in her sleep, she was dreaming of him.

Never before had Edward wanted so desperately to hear someone's thoughts as he had sitting in that tree, but the one person whose thoughts meant the most to him was silent to him. But as much as that threatened to drive him insane, he was, in a way, glad for it. His beautiful Bella deserved her privacy.

Edward shook his head and let out a slow breath; he fully recognized the irony of acknowledging his mate's right to privacy after once again sitting in a tree behind her house listening to her every word, breath, and heartbeat for a day and a half.

But, now…. Now he was going to meet her. Face to face. They were going to speak to each other. His Bella was Alice's friend, and now he could be friends with her, too. Edward had no idea how he would handle the situation when she inevitably noticed that none of them ever seemed to age, but he had years before he had to deal with that, and he would just have to come up with something before it happened.

After Alice introduced them at school today, he'd be able to talk to his mate anytime he wanted. He could welcome her to Forks. He could ask her how her first weekend in town had been, even though he already knew everything she'd done, every word she'd said. He could talk to her about her favorite books. He could ask her what music she liked. He could ask her how her holidays were. They could sit together in class. They could study together. They could….

_Calm it down and speed it up already, will you? At this rate, you're going to make us all late, and if you mess up Alice's carefully orchestrated casual meeting, she really will rip you apart and burn the pieces._

Edward smiled at Jasper's warning and had just reached his hand out to take a pale grey, button down shirt out of his closet when his cell phone rang. Of course, Alice had seen what he had chosen to wear, and of course, she had to have a say in the matter. He knew she had already picked out Bella's clothes for her first day. Actually, Bella didn't know it yet, but Alice had pretty much planned her wardrobe out for the rest of their junior year.

"Friends, Alice. Just friends. That's all I'm hoping for. You know that. So what difference does it make what I'm wearing?"

Alice was too outraged at the idea of what someone was wearing not mattering to answer him with more than a few angrily sputtered words. "Forrest green… Lacoste sweater… Seven jeans, the faded ones. Wear it!"

Edward groaned. He knew exactly which jeans Alice meant, and she knew he hated them. He'd tried to get rid of them a dozen times only to be caught by Alice each time. Those jeans had been a gift from Tanya before she'd found Charlie, and were, unfortunately for him, one of Alice's exceptions to the one-time-wear clothing rule.

Apparently, they made his butt look good.

What was the meddling little pixie thinking? He'd already had to suffer through Jessica Stanley's overly excited thoughts about his return to school today and all her plans to make him hers by prom when she'd visited Bella with Angela Weber yesterday. Her plan was to use Bella and her friendship with Alice to get close first to Alice, then to him. Thank God Jasper and Emmett had both been there at the time; they'd had to restrain him. That little fool was only interested in befriending his Bella because of the attention a new student at school would inevitably attract, and she wanted to be as close the center of that attention as possible.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, but he suddenly started to laugh. How many times had he pinched the bridge of his nose just like that after reading one of Bella's letters as a human, he wondered? He knew from Carlisle it was a habit he had retained from his human self. There were quite a few of her letters that must have driven him half crazy. What had his human self thought of the idea of her asking a boy to a dance? The thought quieted his laughter instantly. He had to have been in love with her then too, and he must've been heartbroken at the thought of her in someone else's arms.

Unwanted thoughts of Jessica Stanley were replaced by even less wanted thoughts of the rest of their class as the faces of all the boys their age–well, Bella's age–at Forks High School started flying through Edward's mind. Jessica had gotten one thing right at least. A new student at Forks High School was huge, and his Bella would be the center of attention whether she wanted to be or not. He didn't know her as well as he wished he could, but he knew her from her letters and what he had overheard well enough that he felt safe in saying she would definitely not want to be. Being a close friend of one, hopefully soon to be two, of the elusive Cullens would only add to the school's fascination with her.

Emmett silently warned him that Rosalie was quickly becoming more and more riled at how long he was taking, not that Edward couldn't hear the irate thoughts she loudly and continually shot at him for himself, and admitting that Jessica Stanley would be far easier to avoid than Alice, he quickly dressed in the ordered jeans and sweater and went downstairs.

Edward supposed he should be grateful that Alice had at least allowed him to choose his own shoes.

His family, minus Alice, were all waiting for him in the living room. Carlisle looked at him proudly, and Esme was so happy she was nearly floating around the room. His brothers were mostly just as they always were, incredulous but trying to be supportive. They had both met and liked Bella when she was here over the summer, something about her stirring their chivalrous sides while she also impressed them with her will to fight. Although Emmett would never admit it out loud, in case Rosalie found out, neither could understand his absolute unwillingness to ever change her. Tanya was equally hopeful he would "see reason," as she put it, on that regard. Rosalie was… 'livid' would be a colossal understatement for how Rosalie felt about the situation. She had been in full agreement with his plan to let Bella go, to let her live her human life as none of them had had the chance to do, and she was now furious with him for changing his mind.

He had tried to stay away, he truly had, but in the end Alice had been right. By now, Edward admitted to himself, he really should know better than to doubt her. She had told him Bella needed him as much as he needed her, and she had been right. Her ultimate vision of Bella unresponsive in a hospital bed had never faltered–never, not even slightly. Not even the wholly unexpected vision that had been the catalyst responsible for his so abruptly changing his plan had altered it. Only now that he was back in Forks and planning on befriending her did it begin to waver, but Edward was afraid the new vision it flickered back and forth with was no better.

In Alice's new vision, he and Bella were sitting atop a towering spruce in perfect contentment, quietly watching the Northern Lights dance in hundreds of shades of green, red, blue, and purple across the sky above them. She was leaning back against his chest; his arms were wrapped tightly around her. Their legs were entwined, and Bella was trailing her fingertips lazily up and down his forearm. As her fingers moved, the rainbow of colors in the sky was reflected off the ring on her left hand–his mother's wedding ring. It was as idyllic a scene as he could imagine, except for one very important detail: his beautiful Bella's bottomless brown eyes were a deep blood red.

"Well, is Mr. Loverboy finally ready?" Emmett could always be counted on to be Emmett, and grabbing the keys to his Jeep, he proceeded to hum the wedding march as they walked to the car.

Pulling out of the garage, Edward glared up at the storm clouds overhead. The rain was coming down in sheets, and was expected to continue all day. Not exactly what he wanted for his Bella's first day at school.

Edward heard his parents' and Tanya's well wishes in his head until they were a few miles away from the house, and by then the thoughts of all the residents of Forks started like a dull hum before rapidly growing to the garbled buzz of thousands of thoughts. Focusing, he quickly found the one person he was desperate to hear, but Alice wasn't helping him. He'd hoped to get some idea of how Bella was feeling this morning, starting at a new school that was so very different from the one she was used to–and OK, maybe he was hoping to catch a glimpse of his mate before he was actually standing in front of her–but the pesky little pixie was mentally singing Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" in an obvious "Stay Out of My Head, Edward" statement.

He'd known he would one day regret telling her about that song, their song, and today appeared to be that day.

That morning the ride into Forks seemed much longer than normal, but once they pulled into the lot, Edward wished he had more time. He should've been thinking about what to say to his Bella. Now, the biggest moment of his life was only seconds away, and he had no idea what to say. If he'd still been human, his hands would be sweating, his mouth would be dry, his heart would be pounding, and his stomach would be turning. Being a vampire, at least he didn't have to worry about any of those things, but being a vampire didn't seem to be helping with the fact that he couldn't feel his legs, and he vaguely wondered if they would give out on him. As Emmett parked the Jeep, Edward rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, but then stopped. What exactly was he trying to do? Get the blood flowing?

His brothers were trying to be supportive, but both were laughing at him in their heads, happy to finally have a chance to get back at him after decades of ribbing at how whipped Alice and Rosalie had them. The teasing got worse when Edward stumbled on an uneven bit of sidewalk. He was so nervous, he'd actually stumbled. Even Rosalie stopped her angry tirade for a moment to laugh at him.

Rosalie only stayed with them until they entered the building. Without sparing a glance at Edward, she told him she refused to be a party to this and walked away. Alice tried to tell him not to let her get to him, but there was no need. Rosalie was already forgotten. Edward could smell his Bella's unique scent now that they were inside, and all thought other than _It's her_ fell away.

The door to the office was only steps away. His mate_, _his Bella, was only steps away. In seconds he would walk through that door, and they would be in the same room. Why did it seem to be taking so long? The door couldn't be more than ten feet away—nine feet eight and three quarters inches to be exact—surely they should be there by now. Shouldn't they?

The laughter in his head got louder, _You know, bro. I know you've been away awhile, but in case you've forgotten, Forks High School doesn't have one of those moving sidewalks things. You've actually got to move your feet to get somewhere. _Jasper's thoughts were only marginally more supportive than Emmett's. They were both enjoying this far too much.

"Get in here already! I can't stall any longer! If you mess this up, Edward, so help me…."

Edward didn't realize that Alice had spoken out loud until his brothers each grabbed an arm and started walking with him between them. "Come on, Loverboy. You heard the lady. Let's go."

Edward's breath was shuddering. Panic gripped him, and he couldn't move. What if his mate didn't like him? What if she was instinctively afraid of him? A hundred scenarios flashed through his mind, each worse than the one before. What if _he _acted instinctively? Bella was his mate, and he was wildly in love with her, yes, but as Tanya had pointed out back in August, she was also still his singer. Her scent was every bit as appealing as it had been the first time he'd encountered it nearly a year ago. The only difference was now he knew that the girl that divine scent emanated from just happened to be his very reason for existing. But what if, just for a fraction of a second, he wasn't strong enough, and the monster inside of him broke free? What if….

"I, I don't think I can do this. I can't do this."

Fearing he was about to bolt, his brothers strengthened their grip on Edward's arms. "Oh, yes you can. Come on."

Then Edward heard Bella say something to Alice, and it was suddenly as if he was being pulled by a magnet, and his brothers had to slow him down to a human pace rather than pull him along. Jasper and Emmett stepped in front of him as they entered the office in an almost military formation. The secretary, Mrs. Cope, saw them first and, as usual, her eyes widened for a moment at the sight of them before instantly scolding herself for again forgetting that they were less than half her age. Edward had noticed long ago that she never seemed to remind herself of _Mr. _Cope or the ring on her finger.

Alice turned to them with an uncontrollable smile on her face. Then Bella turned to them. Edward saw her face, first in profile as she looked first to Alice then to Jasper as he stepped next to her, next she turned her head toward Emmett and smiled up at him before looking past him and then lastly, she meet Edward's eyes.

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Tanya took a pork roast out of the slow cooker and placed it on a large platter to begin pulling it apart. The barbeque sauce she'd made two days ago sat waiting in the refrigerator, and the hard rolls the baker had assured her were the best in the state of Washington were sliced and waiting in a basket on the table. Pulled pork sandwiches were one of Charlie's favorites, and she hoped Bella would like them, too. Not only was she vital to the happiness of both Charlie and Edward, but Tanya truly had come to genuinely care for the girl, and she wanted to do everything she could to make sure she was as happy and felt as welcome as possible.

Working at her natural speed, Tanya had the meat shredded and back in the still hot slow cooker to stay warm in no time at all. School would be out soon, and she was expecting Charlie any minute. He had gone into work a little late this morning, to be there when Bella and Alice left for Bella's first day of school in Forks, and he planned to leave work early to be here when she got home. He was like any other proud parent on their child's first day of school; the only difference being that his daughter was a seventeen-year-old high school student and not a five-year-old kindergartener. Tanya couldn't suppress the anger that welled up in her for all the fatherly experiences her beloved mate had lost because his ex-wife had taken their daughter with her when she'd left. All the first days of school, all the bed time stories, all the trips to the park, all the holidays…. Her heart broke at the mental picture she had of Charlie sitting in this very same kitchen on his birthday, on Bella's birthday, on Christmas, on Father's Day… alone and staring at those God awful yellow cabinets. Tanya had resented Renee and hadn't thought she would ever forgive her for the pain she'd caused the man she loved, but she had. The inconsolable pain she had plainly heard in the other woman's voice when Bella had had her breakdown last summer had begun to soften Tanya toward Renee, and then it had only been a matter of time until Tanya had been able to let go of her resentment entirely. Charlie had her now, and he would never again have to spend another day alone. The man she had met a little over a year ago would never have gone into work late, and he would never have left work early. There had been no reason for him to; there'd been no one and nothing waiting at home for him, but now there was. Now, there was not only her, but Bella as well.

Tanya took the barbeque sauce out of the refrigerator and shook it before setting it on the counter to let it come to room temperature. As always, it smelled repulsive. The first time she'd made it, she'd been sure she'd done something wrong, and it had worried her. A human woman would've known if it was all wrong right away, but Tanya had no way of knowing. It would be just as disgusting to her if it was wrong as it would if it was right. It was very thin and watery and looked to be completely the wrong color. She'd seen several barbeque sauces made on the Food Channel, and none of them looked anything like it. They were all a deep reddish brown and thick. This was as thin as water and a reddish orange, almost terracotta color. She'd debated dumping it down the drain and starting again, but she'd been sure she'd done everything exactly as the directions stated. The recipe had come from a cookbook Carlisle had bought at the hospital–one of the nurses had been selling them as part of a fundraiser for some organization or another, and it was filled with recipes submitted by people from the community. This recipe in particular had been given by the owner of the local diner, so Tanya knew it should be trustworthy. The directions had said to let it sit for a day or two before using it to let the flavors "come together." In the end, she'd done just that and hoped it would look more like it was supposed to after a couple days. It hadn't looked any different, but Charlie had loved it.

Tanya found human food as confusing as she found it repulsive. Why did the sauce need to sit for a couple days for the flavors to "come together?" Shouldn't the flavors blend together when the ingredients were mixed together? Tanya hated cooking, but she loved seeing Charlie enjoy something she'd made. Not only making him happy, but making sure he ate healthily, made touching even cold, raw meat worth it.

Before much longer, Tanya heard the easily recognizable sound of her mate's old car as it neared the house. She loved the anticipation she always felt knowing they would soon be together again. She heard him pull into the driveway, and she could hear the unique sounds of his heartbeat and his breathing. He came in through the kitchen door and wrapped his warm arms around her from behind as she checked the slow cooker. It still amazed her how much she loved this man.

Tanya turned in his arms and reached up to kiss him. Their kiss quickly grew heated, and Charlie lifted her off the ground, setting her on the counter. Her legs wrapped around him, and she heard his heart and breathing speed up as he kissed her neck.

"Not that this isn't lovely, but Bella will be home from school soon."

She felt his breath against her skin as he answered, "She's not here now."

What more could she say? When the man was right, he was right.

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Bella arrived home from school quiet and subdued. It was very anticlimactic. Tanya had been hoping she'd walk in the door unable to stop talking about Edward, but she barely spoken. Tanya and Charlie asked Bella about her schedule and what she thought of her teachers and the school, but she only answered with a few mumbled words while staring down at her feet. Tanya asked if her cousins or any of the other kids from town she already knew were in her classes, and Bella distractedly answered that she had a few classes with Alice and that all of her classes had at least one or two of the kids she'd met over the summer.

Tanya and Charlie glanced at each other, and Charlie asked her if everything was alright. Bella assured them everything was fine much too quickly and very unconvincingly said she had a slight headache. Tanya asked if she had eaten lunch and who she sat with, and Bella hurriedly named some of the local kids. Both Tanya and Charlie noticed she had not said she'd eaten.

It was clear Bella was making an effort to appear normal, but it was equally clear she was forcing it and failing. Something was bothering her, that much was obvious. But was it just normal new kid in school anxiety, or had something happened to upset her? Tanya was sure if anything… _bad _had happened, she would've heard about it long before now, and Bella was clearly fine physically.

What was the matter then?

Tanya said, "Oh, Bella. Before I forget. The movers called a little while ago to confirm the time they'll deliver your desk. Wednesday at 5:30."

Tanya knew Charlie and Renee did not approve of Bella's spending so much money to have the desk moved to Forks, but knowing the history of the desk and what it represented, she thought the fact that Bella was unwilling to be without it was one of the most romantic things she'd ever heard. Really, the whole situation was the most romantic thing she'd ever heard of. She'd heard of a love that transcended time before, but that was the stuff of novels and movies. She'd never though such a thing could truly happen. She couldn't wait for the desk to be delivered, none of the family could.

"I'll call Billy after we eat to make sure Jake and his friends can…." Charlie never got to finish his sentence. Bella burst into tears and ran up the stairs. They heard her stumble, and then they heard her bedroom door slam shut.

Charlie stood dumfounded, staring at where his daughter had just been standing.

"I'll call Alice. If something happened at school, she'll know." Tanya left the room and got her cell phone out of her coat pocket.

The phone on the wall rang suddenly and startled Charlie out of his shock. He answered it as Tanya spoke on her cell.

"Charlie, it's Billy. Jake and Sam still on for Wednesday afternoon?"

"What?" Charlie asked distractedly; his mind was on his daughter's behavior.

"Do you still need Jake and Sam to help move Bella's desk on Wednesday?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, please. The movers called. Wednesday at 5:30."

Billy must've picked up on the worry in his voice because he asked if anything had happened. Charlie rubbed his eyes and sighed. Billy never asked if everything was alright, he always asked if anything had happened. It was as if he was convinced something was going to happen eventually, and Charlie knew the something he expected to happen involved Tanya

"Everything's fine. I don't think Bella's first day at school went good. Alice just dropped her off, and she ran upstairs crying and slammed her door."

In his concern for his daughter, Charlie'd made a mistake, and he knew it the moment the words were out of his mouth. He knew better than to mention Tanya or any of the Cullens to Billy. It was the only way to prevent another argument, and he didn't know how many more arguments their friendship could withstand. Billy was his oldest and closest friend, and he knew how much he owed to him for all the support he and his late wife, Sarah, were after Renee had left him and taken Bella. But looking at Tanya as she sat on his old couch, he knew if pushed too far, there would be only one choice. Really, there would be no choice.

Charlie stood and watched Tanya silently for a few moments while Billy went on and on in a very angry voice about how he should not trust the Cullens, and if he wouldn't listen to him for his own good, he should listen to him for Bella's. It wasn't safe, he said.

As Billy continued to insult her and her family, Tanya lifted her sad eyes and gave him a small, apologetic smile, as if she believed the strain on their friendship was entirely her fault, and Billy was blameless.

Charlie knew the Cullens didn't like the Quileutes any more than the Quileutes liked the them, but no matter how many horrible things Billy said about her and her family, Tanya had never asked him to sever their friendship. Looking at her now, he knew the time had come; he couldn't do this anymore. Charlie wanted to spend the rest of his life with Tanya, however long that life might be, and whatever he needed to do to make that happen, he would do, no matter what it cost him.

He had thought of nothing else for the past eight or nine months, and as much as it scared him, he had made his decision. Now it was time to take steps to make that decision happen. Charlie swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling, thinking of Bella. His friendship with Billy wasn't the biggest thing he knew his decision could cost him.

"Billy, we need to talk. There is something I need to tell you. Something… important. Something you're not going to like."

"Charlie, please," Billy pleaded. "Listen to me. I know you don't believe me, but you've got to trust me. They're dangerous. You can't let Bella around them. You don't know what they are."

This was it. Tanya looked at him again, and the anxiety on her face made him wonder briefly if she knew what he was about to say, and if she was as afraid of it as he was.

Charlie said, "Yes, I do."

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Well, the first meeting didn't go so well. You'll get more details on that in the next chapter, teasers for which will be on Fictionators and Twi Fic Central. I will also try to visit the sneak peek campfire on A Different Forest on Monday night. On Twi Fic Central, I don't know why, but it seems like if you look for the teasers under "View Teasers," they're a few weeks old. Look under "Teaser Authors" instead. Find my name and click on it, you can scroll down to find IrY. The teaser there should be current. It's the same teaser regardless of which site, so it's just a matter of which you prefer. (Fictionators and ADF are on Monday, TFC is Wednesday.)

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Thank you so much to all my readers and all my wonderful reviewers! I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to all your reviews, hopefully the HP story I'm working on should be finished soon, and I'll have more time. Please know that even if I haven't responded, I've read all my reviews, and I appreciate them all so much! So, please, keep'em coming!


	27. Chapter 27

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"_Charlie, please," Billy pleaded. "Listen to me. I know you don't believe me, but you've got to trust me. They're dangerous. You can't let Bella around them. You don't know what they are." _

_This was it. Tanya looked at him again, and the anxiety on her face made him wonder briefly if she knew what he was about to say, and if she was as afraid of it as he was. _

_Charlie said, "Yes, I do."_

Charlie's admission was met with stunned silence from both Billy and Tanya. He had known this moment would come ever since he'd found a slip of paper lying on the floor after Bella had returned to Phoenix last Easter. The paper had written on it, in what he'd recognized as Jacob's handwriting, the address of a website. Curious, he'd pulled the site up, finding it to be on the history and legends of the Quileute tribe.

Rigid with angry disbelief, he'd sat in front of the computer screen for over an hour. The Cullens all had some unusual and rare medical conditions, but this was the 21st century, not the Dark Ages. Today, medical conditions were recognized for what they were, no matter how unusual or uncommon, not deemed the result of some curse or divine punishment for sinners. Charlie could not fathom that the entire tribe hated the Cullens so intently just because of some ridiculous old superstition.

Over the next few days, however, the legend of "the Cold Ones" hadn't left him alone. Things he had noticed peripherally had moved front and center in Charlie's mind, and he'd begun noticing other things he had overlooked before. Or maybe he had subconsciously chosen to ignore them because they hadn't fit into what he had accepted as reality. He'd thought he was becoming a superstitious old fool himself, but his law-enforcement-trained mind could not be stopped. As much as he'd tried not to even consider such insanity, his mind had continued collecting and organizing clues against his will until the evidence had become so overwhelming he hadn't been able to ignore it.

Once he had finally accepted the truth that had been not only staring him in the face but sharing his bed for months, Charlie hadn't been able to imagine how he had deceived himself for so long.

After all, there were places where no woman, no matter what medical condition she may have, had cold.

_But Tanya was_. She was cold _everywhere_.

The other truth that Charlie'd had to come to accept was that the Quileutes' hatred of the Cullens wasn't based on belief. It was based on knowledge. They knew what the Cullens were because they knew what they, themselves, were. But Charlie's trust of the Cullens and his love for Tanya were based on knowledge, too. His knowledge of _them _and of _her. _He judged them on _their _actions, not on the actions of others of their kind. Lord knew that as a cop, Charlie knew there were countless human beings out there whom he would not want to be lumped in with.

Billy pleaded, "Charlie, please. Listen to me. You _don't_ know. They're not what you think they are. They're not–"

With his eyes still locked with Tanya's, Charlie interrupted Billy's warning. "No. They're not what _you_ think they are."

Billy fell silent, and Tanya had yet to move so much as an inch. She had not blinked or drawn breath in what had to be at least two minutes.

"What do you think… that we think… they are?" Billy asked.

Charlie responded, "Your Cold Ones."

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Upstairs in her room, Bella sat on her bed curled up in a tight ball, rocking back and forth, and shaking.

What was _wrong_ with her?

How _could_ she?

This had been a mistake. Coming here had been a mistake—a terrible, terrible mistake. She never should have come here, but what could she do now? She couldn't go back to Phoenix so soon. Her dad had sounded so happy these past few weeks since she'd asked if she could come live with him for a while, and he'd told everyone in town she was coming. She couldn't leave so soon. He'd be so disappointed. She just couldn't do that to him.

Plus there was the expense; another plane ticket and moving their desk again would be expensive.

But what was she going to do? She could not go back to that school. One minute, she'd been talking to Alice and getting her schedule from the school's secretary, and everything had been fine. Then, Jasper, Emmett, and… _he _had walked in the door, and the world had flipped upside down.

Oh, God. She couldn't even think his name without her heart speeding up.

Her Edward had only dead six months, and here she was ready to replace him with this other Edward already.

What was _wrong_ with her? What kind of person _was _she?

She could notface… _him_… again.

God, he must have thought she was completely crazy. She'd taken one look into his amber eyes and had actually forgotten her own name. She'd forgotten everything.

Bella berated herself; she was no better than Jessica Stanley.

Jessica had seemed so nice, so friendly and welcoming. Bella didn't know which had surprised her more, how Jessica had talked about _him_ at lunch–like he was just some prize to be won and not a real person–or how much it had pissed her off_._ But, Bella told herself, she had no right to criticize Jessica when she had behaved no better herself. She didn't think she'd ever been so awestruck in her life. God, she was so embarrassed. She'd actually stood there staring at him, dazzled by him. All the Cullens were breathtakingly beautiful, but Edward was… _something else._

He could be an angel.

Bella tried to tell herself that she wasn't quite as bad as Jessica, though. The attraction she'd felt to him was more than just for his face. She'd never felt such an instant… not just attraction… such an instant _connection_… to anyone ever before. Even with her own Edward that connection had taken time.

His eyes were such a beautiful shade of amber. She'd seen more depth and more emotion in his eyes than she'd ever seen in anyone before. But she'd seen pain and loss and loneliness, too. Looking into Edward Cullen's eyes felt like looking into a reflection of her own.

But his eyes had also undeniably held hope. Her own, she knew, did not.

What was his story, she wondered? What had happened to his biological parents? How long ago had he been adopted? Whyhad he been adopted? Walking together to history class, Angela had told her he'd been visiting his biological family since the middle of the summer and had only just come back over the holidays.

But if he still had biological family, why had he been adopted by the Cullens?

Bella angrily wiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand. Whatever Edward Cullen's past was, it was none of her business. He was her friend's brother, nothing more.

And more importantly, he wasn't _her_ Edward.

_Her Edward._ She needed _her_ Edward.

Bella held her locket tightly in her hand, but it wasn't enough. She took the strands of his hair out again and brushed them lightly over her lips, but she needed more. She got up and wiped her eyes again. Edward's letters. She needed Edward's letters. The only time she'd touched them since he'd died was when she'd packed them in her carry-on bag, but now she was desperate to read them again. She needed him, and he was in every word.

Bella dug through all the Alice-hand-me-downs in her closet to find the purple box she'd bought at Mann's a lifetime ago and had buried in a back corner of the closet on her first night in Forks. There were so many letters, several dozen of them, that she'd had to tie a ribbon around the box to keep the lid on. Climbing back into bed with his letters, she burrowed under the quilt her grandmother had made and poured over the words he'd written to her. There were some letters that were just too painful to read yet, when he'd told her of his father's death and those written during the epidemic. She also didn't reread his first—unlike the others she wasn't ready to see yet, she didn't skip the first intentionally. But it had been written to Mic, and what Bella needed where the words Edward had written to her.

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"Edward, would you stop brooding already? It didn't go that badly," Alice insisted.

"Not that badly? _Not that badly?_"

It was after midnight. Edward had run straight to what he now considered to be his waterfall immediately after school and was still there now, sitting and leaning against a tree with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs.

Alice had shown up an hour ago but hadn't said anything yet and had been careful to keep her mind clear of all thoughts of Bella. She had been waiting for him to say something but had finally lost patience with him.

"What, exactly, would you consider 'gone badly' if that wasn't it?" Edward asked her.

"She was just overwhelmed. You must've heard Jaz." Alice finished without speaking, her thoughts singing happily in her mind, _She _likes _you. _

"She ran out of the office without saying a word."

"Only after staring at you for nearly a minute with her eyes nearly popping out of her head and her mouth hanging open."

Edward turned his eyes up to the sky and let the rain fall on his face. It would have to do since he couldn't produce tears of his own. His Bella hadn't even said hello to him.

"You really ought to listen to me, you know. I was right about the clothes, wasn't I?"

"Oh, yes. Jessica certainly approved of your choice wholeheartedly. Be grateful you only had to hear what she said out loud."

"Yes, I did. And so did Bella."

That got Edward's full attention immediately. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Really, Edward. Did you pay _any _attention to _anything_ today? Bella was _furious_. Positively _livid. _I know you can't hear her thoughts, but if you'd even looked her way once, you'd have seen them written all over her face. She didn't say anything to Jessica. That'd be a bit too much to expect on her first day at a new school. She's too shy and quiet for that. But, oh, she _wanted _to. There were a few seconds where I could actually see the possibility of her jumping over the lunch table to throttle Jessica to shut her up. Jaz was highly impressed, as was Emmett. She's a fighter. So, mission accomplished. Bella now knows to be leery of Jessica."

Edward was stunned, "You mean… _that _was why you insisted I wear…. To, to, to _out_ Jessica?"

"Yup. I'm a genius, I know. You may thank me any time. Sapphires are lovely, aren't they? September's birthstone, if I'm not mistaken." Alice was at the top of the waterfall skipping gracefully from rock to rock. She had a large, lime green umbrella resting against her shoulder, and she was barefoot. Never before had she looked more like a pixie than she did at that moment as she shook her head and smiled at him. "You didn't seriously think it was for Bella? Really, Edward. I'm insulted on her behalf. You should know her better than that by now. You should know she isn't the type of girl to fall for a guy because of his looks or his clothes. You're going to have to work for her, dear brother."

"Friends, Alice. All I want is to be her friend."

A smirk and a raised eyebrow were her first response. "Friends. I see. So, you just intend to sit back and watch _Jacob Black_ get closer and closer to her? He wants to be more than friends, you know, and he's not being shy about it. As her _friend_, at least you can be the shoulder she cries on when he imprints on someone else and abruptly dumps her without so much as a word of explanation."

Edward's entire body went rigid. He didn't say anything, but the fallen branch he'd been idly fiddling around with snapped in half.

Finally she was getting somewhere. Edward had gotten through his "She's better off without me" nonsense and accepted the fact that she needed him. Now, he had to get past this "We can just be friends" nonsense. Bella was his mate. Just friends…. This from the mind reader who had heard the thoughts of not just their own family, but those of dozens of other mated vampires. Just friends–yeah, right_._

"I can't see anything when the wolves are involved. Do you think he'll give her the famous 'It's not you. It's me.' line? At least in his case, it'd be true."

Alice heard Edward's teeth grind, and he turned his head away from her. His hands were clenched tightly in white-knuckled fists, the fallen branch now nothing but pulp.

Encouraged, she continued, "I wonder if that'll be the catalyst that causes her final breakdown. I've never seen what sparks it. Maybe that's why. Or, maybe he phases in front of her. You know what Rover did to his mate. Maybe it isn't a breakdown after all. Maybe she's physically injured and I just can't tell from the vision."

Edward jumped up and stormed several dozen yards into the forest, and Alice heard him vent his anger on several trees before he took off running back toward Forks. She didn't follow him. There was no need. She didn't need a vision to know where he was going.

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_OK, Bella. You can do this._

Walking down the hallway, Bella tried to psych herself up to go to her first period English class. It was one of, thankfully, only two classes she shared with Alice's brother. English, first thing in the morning, and biology, first thing after lunch.

She had spent hours with _her_ Edward's letters yesterday after school and had laughed and cried herself to sleep with them scattered around her. She poured over them, rereading them all over and over, and it had already been late in the evening by the time she'd woken up. When she'd woken up and realized the time, Bella had worried that her father or Tanya might have come to check on her and seen the letters, but neither had said anything when she'd gone downstairs to apologize for acting like a complete nut case earlier. She'd been very grateful that neither had pressed her for what had been bothering her. If it had been her mother, she'd have spent the rest of the night, if not longer, trying to assure her that nothing was wrong. Bella suspected that Tanya must've spoken to Alice and had already been filled in on how big a fool she'd made of herself.

Her father and Tanya had already had dinner while she'd been upstairs, and after she'd eaten hers, she'd stared out the back window and into the trees behind the house. The branches of the deciduous trees were bare, creating an altogether different scene from the ones she remembered from last Easter and August. Different, but still mesmerizing. Even bare the forest seemed to comfort her. The branches that had been hidden behind leaves before seemed to weave themselves together in an intricate pattern that she hadn't been able to see then.

Looking into those trees, Bella had taken a deep breath, telling herself she'd been majorly overreacting. So she'd embarrassed herself in front of Alice's brother, so what? It wasn't like she'd never embarrassed herself before, and Alice had told her over and over not to worry about it. Bella reasoned that at least she hadn't tripped and fallen on her face when she'd run out of the office.

Returning her mind to the present, Bella told herself again that coming to Forks had been the right thing to do; she was sure of it. Something about being here felt right. She felt better, more content. She felt stronger here, and she was not going to let a boy chase her away. No matter how beautiful he was.

Bella closed her eyes, annoyed with herself. She really was no better than Jessica. Why should what Alice's brother looked like matter? The poor boy already had to deal with not only Jessica lusting after him and scheming to get him, but from what Bella could tell after just one day, virtually every female in the school was drooling over him–students and faculty alike for Pete's sake. Now here she was, his sister's first friend in town, first ogling him and then ignoring him.

They only had two classes together, but since it was her first day and his first day back, they'd ended up seated next to each other in both classes. He'd smiled politely at her in first period English and said hello, and she'd gone totally dumb. She couldn't have spoken a word to save her life. She'd just sat there staring at him like an idiot while her heart had tried to pound its way out of her chest. God, what must he think of her? She'd been so rude.

Biology hadn't gone much better, and if she didn't pull herself together soon, it would become an absolute nightmare. Lab partners. They were going to be lab partners_._ How was she going to work with him if just looking at him made her forget how to speak?

The thought that Edward Cullen must think pretty poorly of her was horrible. It was too much. Bella couldn't stand the thought. She had to apologize to him. He hadto know she wasn't just some empty-headed nitwit who drooled mindlessly over a handsome face.

Needing to steadying her nerves, Bella stopped to catch her breath before she entered the classroom–why was she even out of breath in the first place, she asked herself_–_and she ran through the apology she'd spent all morning planning one more time.

"Whoa, hey there, Arizona. I've been calling you all the way down the hall. I wanted to walk with you to class."

Bella didn't look to see who it was. She didn't need to; she recognized the voice already. It was Mike Newton, the boy with the football from the beach and whose family owned the sporting goods store. That was how she still thought of the kids she knew here in town. First their name, then what she knew about them. She wasn't used to having friends, and she was trying to keep them straight while she got used to it. She definitely thought she could get used to it. It was both nice and sad that she already knew more about more kids here than she ever had at her school in Phoenix. Angela Weber was "the girl from church at Easter who'd invited her to the movies and meant it." Jessica had gone in one instant from "the too bubbly one" to "the one Edward Cullen needed to be protected from."

As they entered the room together, Bella absently told Mike she was sorry she hadn't heard him, and he said something else she didn't hear a word of.

Edward was already seated next to her empty chair. He was looking toward the door as she entered, and for just a moment as their eyes met, he had the most stunningly beautiful smile on his face, but it lasted only a moment—upon seeing Mike standing next to her, and the smile faded away to be replaced with a look of such disappointment and desolation it made her heart hurt. In that moment, Bella knew she never wanted to see that look on his face again. She knew what that look felt like. It didn't matter that he wasn't _her_ Edward–no one would ever replace her Edward, her heart would always and only be his–but this Edward was hurting, and no one knew more about how horrible it was to hurt alone than she did.

Sitting down next to him, Bella thought to herself that, whatever had caused it, Edward Cullen should always have the smile on his face he did when she'd first walked in the room.

An odd look passed through his eyes as she sat down, and he said good morning. Bella thought it looked like he was afraid of something, and it looked like he was holding his breath. But that couldn't be right, what could he possibly be afraid of, and why would he hold his breath?

She stammered, "Hi, Edward… I…."

Bella's mind went blank. She'd spent all morning carefully planning out her apology word for word, but his name had caught in her throat, and now her carefully rehearsed apology was completely gone.

Edward waited for her to continue, looking at her and smiling encouragingly, but Bella couldn't think. She needed to say something, but she'd lost the ability to think clearly. She felt dazzled, dizzy. She also felt embarrassed and angry. The bell would ring soon, and she would lose her chance. But it was hopeless; she couldn't make her mouth work, and Edward would think even worse of her than he already must.

What was _wrong_ with her? She'd never been able to talk to people easily, but this was just ridiculous.

The grin that had started off as a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth slowly spread across his face and reached his sparkling gold eyes, which were staring so deeply into hers that Bella could almost feel him inside her mind.

"Yes?" he asked with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Whaaa…" Oh, God. This couldn't be happening. Could this get any worse? Edward's face held encouragement, no ridicule whatsoever, and it helped settle her. Her heart settled back into her chest from where it had lodged itself in her throat and into a rhythm that, while still too fast, wasn't likely to cause it to give it completely. Once she could form a coherent thought in her mind, Bella cleared her throat and tried again to speak, "What?"

"You started to say something."

Bella felt her face flame with embarrassment, and she dropped her head into her hands. This was even worse than yesterday. She hurriedly mumbled a meager apology into her hands that she was surprised he had even heard, let alone understood. "Oh, God. Edward, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. You must think I'm insane."

"Not at all. At any rate, sanity is highly overrated. Don't you agree? My dearest friend once told me she had decided it was. I happen to think she was right."

Bella's surprise at Edward's having heard and understood her was blown away by his response, and for several seconds she was unable to even breathe. Edward laughed playfully, and it was like being surrounded by music. Bella could feel his laughter in her veins. Her eyes flew to his and after a short while she felt herself grow dizzy.

"Bella?"

She couldn't speak. Why couldn't she speak? Why had he said that to her? That was what _she_ had said to _her _Edward all those months ago in one of their very first letters.

"Bella, breathe," Edward commanded.

Bella felt her lungs fill with air, and the dizziness faded before she even realized she'd inhaled.

"Better?"

All she could do was nod her head stupidly and focus on breathing as he lowered his head. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him bite his lip to keep from laughing. In her shock, she had actually forgotten to breathe. Who forgets to breathe? How was such a thing even possible?

Even now though, all Bella could see on Edward's face was encouragement. There was no mocking, just friendly teasing. The kind of teasing good friends were comfortable with. The way she and her Edward had teased each other sometimes.

Bella braced herself for the pain, but when it did come, as she knew it would, it was only a shadow of what it normally was. She waited for it to worsen, but instead it faded away as Edward raised his eyes to hers again.

Just then the bell rang and the teacher called the class to attention. Bella cast a glance at Edward out the corner of her eye; he was still smiling at her.

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"So, you and Cullen seemed to hit it off."

"Yeah. He's nice."

Mike didn't say anything, but the look on his face clearly said he didn't agree. Just like yesterday with Jessica, Bella felt a nearly irrepressible urge to defend Edward, but again just like yesterday, she stayed quiet and let the subject drop. She was in too good a mood to argue, and it had been too long since she'd felt this good to let anything wreck it.

She and Edward Cullen had hit it off. They'd whispered back and forth anytime the teacher had his back turned, and after English, Edward had walked her to her second period history class. Now it was lunch, and next period was biology. She would see him again. Bella lowered her head as she stirred her yogurt to mix the fruit through it, trying to hide how much she was looking forward to biology.

"Who's nice?"

Jessica was late to lunch, and had only sat down in time to hear her response to Mike. Bella could hear the derision in his voice as he answered Jessica, and her temper flared.

Lifting her eyes, Bella looked across the room to where the Cullens sat alone, segregated from the rest of the school. She'd been sneaking glances at Edward since he'd sat down. He'd been methodically picking a bagel apart, but she had yet to see him eat any of it. His fingers stilled as Mike said his name, and he looked over at her. No that wasn't right, Bella told herself. Edward wasn't looking at her; he was looking at Mike sitting next to her. His face was mask-like, betraying no emotion, but Bella could swear he'd turned to Mike in response to hearing his name spoken, as if he was only a foot or two away and not the full length of the crowded lunch room.

Jessica was noticeably cool to her during lunch after that, like she was sizing her up as potential competition for Edward. Before Edward–_her_ Edward, that was–Bella had never had a temper. But now she did. The first time she could remember it burn through her had been toward her Edward's uncle, and now it was roaring to life again in defense of this Edward. Jessica's delusional jealousy was ridiculous for two reasons. First, Bella wasn't interested in Edward as more than a friend. Second, and more importantly, Bella told herself as she noticed that her hand had clenched into a fist under the table, it was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that Edward clearly wasn't interested in Jessica as even a friend, forget about anything more.

For the next twenty-five minutes, Bella continued to sneak peeks at Edward whenever she thought she could get away with it, and finally, after what seemed like the longest lunch period in the history of public schools in America, the bell rang and it was time to go to biology.

Bella gathered her things to throw away and watched as Edward stood with his tray covered with tiny little pieces of bagel. Even the way he walked was beautiful. In his every movement, Edward Cullen had a natural grace dancers could work their entire lives to achieve but never reach. Along with what had to have been a hundred tiny pieces of bagel, Edward had a can of soda on his tray, which also went into the garbage. Through the entire time Bella had watched him, she hadn't seen him touch it once.

Had he eaten anything at all? Not that she'd seen. Was he not feeling well? As she left the cafeteria with her friends, a sick feeling of dread Bella was all too familiar with started growing inside her. Even though the swine flu epidemic had turned out to be not as bad as once feared, a lot of people had gotten sick. A lot of people had died. The worst seemed to be over, but who knew for certain? The Spanish Flu had hit in three waves, and the first had been so mild it hadn't even been noticed at the time. What if the same held true now? What if they'd only seen the first and mildest of multiple waves?

"Bella? May I escort you to class?"

Bella screamed, and her books fell to the ground, papers and pencils flying and rolling in all directions. Edward had waited for her outside the doors to the cafeteria, but she had been so lost in her rapidly growing fear that she hadn't seen him, and he had surprised her so badly she'd jumped and dropped her books.

He knelt down and smiled up at her as he retrieved them for her. His smile was so bright it dazzled her so completely that it never occurred to her to be embarrassed.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you. May I ask what had you so distracted?"

Edward's smile was so genuine and so disarming Bella blurted her thoughts out without thinking. "Have you had your flu shot?"

He stood with her books but did not hand them to her. The radiant smile fell from his face and was replaced by an odd look as he whispered, "My flu shot?"

Embarrassment flooded through her and she felt her burn. Bella thought her eyes were playing tricks on her because Edward's beautiful honey-colored eyes appeared to darken momentarily before he looked away. She could see him grimace in pain as he swallowed, as though his throat hurt. Her stomach twisted into a knot. "Are you getting sick? You didn't eat your lunch, and…." Bella's eyes widened in shock as Edward's widened in what looked like panic. Without thinking, she had reached up and put her hand against his forehead. It felt like touching marble, cold and smooth, but there was more–touching Edward was like touching a live wire. Bella felt a tingle spread all the way up her arm, like an electrical charge, but instead of being painful, it was wonderful.

Someone nearby cleared his throat loudly, and reluctantly, she slowly withdrew her hand, never breaking eye contact. "Can we please get going? Unless you two plan on spending the rest of the day in the hallway?" Mike. They weren't alone. She'd forgotten they weren't alone. They were in a hallway with dozens of kids around them. Mike sounded annoyed, and he edged his way around them.

Bella and Edward walked slowly and quietly side-by-side. They silently took their seats and waited for the teacher to begin class. This silence was horrible. She hated it. It felt like a physical barrier between them. English had gone so well this morning; once the initial awkwardness had passed, she'd felt completely comfortable with him. But now the awkwardness was back.

Bella so badly wanted to say something, but she couldn't think of anything. She knew Tanya and Dr. Cullen had health problems, and both Tanya's and Alice's hands were always cold. Did Alice and Edward have health problems like their father and cousin? Was that why Dr. Cullen had adopted Edward even though he still had biological family left? Was that why he adopted all of them? Because they all had the same health problems?

But that wouldn't explain what she'd felt when she'd touched Edward's forehead. She looked quickly at the palm of her hand and wriggled her fingers. Her hand and arm still tingled, but it was fading.

Her teacher entered the room, but before turning her attention to the lesson, Bella peeked at Edward. His head was lowered, and his eyes were closed.

There were ancient microscopes on all the desks, and the teacher, Mr. Banner, was handing slides and worksheets around the class as he explained today's lab: labeling the stages of mitosis in onion root tip cells. Bella had done this lab last year in her AP class. Thank God it was something she wasn't going to have to think about, because right now she didn't think she could think about anything other than the feeling in her hand. It was almost like pins and needles, but it was pleasant. Wonderfully pleasant. As it faded away completely over the next few minutes, Bella felt lost and empty, and she let her eyes roam over to where Edward was writing their names on top of their worksheet.

She had briefly considered inventing an excuse to touch him again, both because she wanted to have that feeling again and because she just really wanted to touch him again, but all thought left her the moment she saw his handwriting. Filled with disbelief, Bella couldn't pull her eyes away, couldn't even blink. Edward Cullen had written their names in almost exactly the same way as Edward Masen had. The letters were all formed nearly exactly the same, except Edward Cullen's handwriting was even more perfect than her Edward's had been. It wouldn't surprise Bella if even a handwriting expert had trouble telling them apart; they were that alike.

She heard him saying her name, but it was nearly impossible to pull her eyes from his handwriting. When she finally did, she saw Edward's amber eyes looking at her in concern. "Are you alright, Bella?"

"I'm fine." Bella only realized she'd answered him when she heard her own voice, but it felt so disconnected from her and sounded so far away, it could've been someone else somehow speaking with her voice from across the room.

Mr. Banner stood in the front of the room and finished their instructions—fill out the sheets, no books.

Bella only heard him on some subconscious level, like background music during a movie. Time was moving disjointedly in spurts, first sped up, then in slow motion. She felt alternately like she was floating, then like she was drowning.

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward pushed the microscope toward her, but she sat there just staring at him, unable to answer, feeling something both painfully familiar and frighteningly unknown. She'd actually been surprised to see those eyes. She hadn't realized it until she saw Edward Cullen's amber eyes looking back at her that she had been expecting Edward Masen's green ones.

The familiar pain tried to take hold of her again, but it was extinguished like a fire smothered by a wet blanket before it could do any real damage.

Edward started to pull the microscope back toward himself, concern written all over his face. "Or I could start, if you wish."

"No. I'll go ahead." Bella reached out and caught his wrist; it was just the same as before. Edward's wrist was just as smooth and just as cold as his forehead, and the same electricity buzzed up her arm. The only difference was that it was even stronger than before. Bella had always heard that when a person touched an electrical current and was being electrocuted, they were unable to let go. This was exactly like that. Her hand was around Edward Cullen's wrist, and she couldn't let go. Nor did she want to. She felt steadied, like she had been spinning uncontrollably and reached out in desperation to grab something to make it stop, and that something was Edward.

But that was all wrong, it was _her _Edward she needed, and it was wrong of her to use the superficial similarities between the two—the color of their hair, their handwriting, the coincidence of what he had said to her this morning, even their name—to substitute this Edward for hers. It was wrong, and it was unfair to both of them.

Repeating that to herself, Bella reluctantly let go of his wrist, and Edward quickly pulled his hand away and reached for the box of slides. He handed her the first slide, and Bella noticed he was being careful not to touch her when he handed it to her. Did he feel that electric buzz, too, she wondered? She decided he had to have, because he seemed to be having trouble meeting her eyes. He would look at her, but he wouldn't make eye contact. He looked at her shoulder or her ear or her forehead, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Was he wondering if she'd felt it, too? Did he know what caused it? Or was it just wishful thinking on her part? She'd touched him twice now. Did he mind? Did he wish she'd keep her hands to herself? It wouldn't surprise her if girls like Jessica made up excuses to touch him, and it probably annoyed the hell out of him. Did he think she was doing that?

_Had _she been doing that?

They made it through the worksheet in hardly anytime at all. Trying to buy herself some time to think of something not totally stupid to say, Bella looked around the room absently. They were the only ones done. She could see the worksheet of the pair next to them; they only had the first two answers, and one of them was wrong. Another pair had one of their books open under the desk.

Bella'd barely needed any time at all to identify the stages of mitosis on the slides, but that was only because she'd done this lab before. But Edward had identified them instantly on sight too. They'd almost seemed to have made a game out of it–which of them could identify their slide faster?

Mr. Banner came around to their desk and asked them why they weren't working, and when he saw the completed worksheet, he asked Edward why he hadn't let her do any of the work. Mildly insulted on both their behalves that the teacher would jump to that conclusion, Bella was just about to speak up when Edward corrected him. She didn't need to look at him to know he was smiling; she could hear it in his voice, and she couldn't help thinking Edward sounded proud. "Actually, Bella identified three of the five."

In response to Mr. Banner's questioning look, Bella told him she'd done this lab before, and he asked her if she'd been in an advanced placement program in Phoenix. When she said that she had been, he walked off mumbling something under his breath. Edward laughed quietly next to her, but when she looked at him, he was looking out the window. "Yesterday must've been terrible for you," he said.

Bella was speechless. And mortified. Was Edward seriously bringing up how she'd acted yesterday? Before she could think of two words to put together, he continued, "I'm glad the rain stopped. It must be so difficult for you to be here. It's so wet and cold all the time. We had almost as much rain in one day yesterday as you had in Phoenix all last year."

Her head snapped up. Edward knew how much rain they'd had in Phoenix last year? Why on Earth would he know that? _She_ didn't even know that.

Before Bella could ask him if he was an aspiring meteorologist, he quickly changed the subject. "My brother and I are coming to your house tomorrow."

He spoke in such a rush she almost missed what he'd said. Surprised, she asked, "You are?"

"Your father asked us. He said you were having something delivered that needed to be carried upstairs."

"I thought his… never mind."

"You thought his friends on the reservation were coming. It's OK. You can mention them in front of me."

"Um…. Yeah. A desk. I thought…. I thought Jacob Black and some of his friends were coming to move it."

There was a look of real regret on his face as he spoke, "I think…. I understand there was, um, a disagreement."

Bella groaned, "Oh, _God._ Not again. I'm so sorry, Edward."

He looked angry, not because of the fight, but because she was apologizing for it. "_You_ have nothing to apologize for, Bella. Not you, and not your father. If the dogs can't behave rationally…." Edward looked away, and Bella could see that he was actually clenching his jaw to not finish what he'd started to say.

She wasn't surprised a seventeen-year-old boy wouldn't be as forgiving for the way the Quileutes treated his family as Tanya was, but she still thought "_the dogs" _was a strange insult for him to use. It looked like he'd started grinding his teeth. He looked livid. It was the same way Jacob looked when she mentioned the Cullens to him. Just like Jacob's, Edward's anger was primal. She wanted to say something, to soothe him, but Mr. Banner had called the class to attention again to go over their worksheets. They were the only pair to get all five answers right.

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"You know you can come home anytime, honey."

Edward and Jasper had just turned the corner onto Bella's street, and he could hear his mate on the phone with her mother. He knew she'd spoken to her every day since she'd arrive in Forks, and every time her mother had told her the same thing–she could come home anytime she wanted. He knew how much Bella disliked the cold and the rain, and he was terrified that one day she would decide that, yes, she wanted to go home. Edward wouldn't be strong enough to be able to let her leave again. He knew that. He would go to her and confess everything. He would tell her how much he loved her and get down on his knees to beg and plead with her to stay with him. If going back to Phoenix was what his Bella wanted, he would go with her, even if it meant he was locked inside eighteen hours a day.

Alice had gone with Bella to her house directly after school to help her arrange her room to accommodate their desk, and she directed her thoughts to him to relax—Bella was here to stay. She'd been telling him that since Saturday night, when Bella had talked to her mom in the car on the way home from the airport. "Mom, I _am_ home," she had said. No reassurance from Alice had calmed him like the tone of Bella's voice just then, the four simple words she spoke so honestly. The certainty. The absolute conviction. _Forks _was home now, _not Phoenix_.

But that had been five days and nearly three inches of rain ago.

At least it was Jasper with him today and not Emmett. Both were having entirely too much fun at his expense, but Jasper wasn't quite as bad as Emmett. Jasper pulled up in front of the next door neighbor's house to leave room for the delivery truck that was expected in about half an hour.

This was it. He was about to enter Bella's home. He'd been inside the house once before, but this was something totally different. It had only been Charlie's home then. Now, it was his Bella's.

Not only was he going to enter his mate's home, but he was going to enter her bedroom. There was still enough of the era he'd grown up in embedded in Edward, even if he couldn't remember it, to make entering Bella's bedroom feel taboo, forbidden. His had been a time when just glimpsing a girl's stockinged calf from under the hem of her skirt was exciting. So very different from now. In so many ways, now was infinitely better, but in that one way, Edward felt his time was better. Sex had meant so much more in his time. Now it had lost all its mystery, all its mystique. There was no anticipation, no wonder. It had become something casual instead of something precious, and the kids today would never know what they had lost.

Edward and Jasper stalled a few moments in the car until they heard Bella tell her mother she had to go, that her friends were here and the movers were expected soon. His smile grew; his Bella had referred to him as her friend. Even the mocking grin on Jasper's face and the whip-like sounds he was making in his head couldn't dampen the moment for him.

There was also their desk itself, and Edward couldn't wait to see it for himself. His only knowledge of it came from the two times Carlisle had been in his human self's bedroom, Tanya's distracted memories of seeing it in Bella's bedroom in Phoenix, and the picture of Bella herself sitting in front of it.

Of those, the second time Carlisle had been in his bedroom was the most detailed. He had searched through it looking for anything he'd thought Edward might like to have from his human life, not yet knowing the things he gathered for him would mean nothing to him as he wouldn't be able to remember ever having seen them before.

Edward didn't like to think about the first time Carlisle had been in his bedroom at his house in Chicago. It had been when he'd gotten sick. Edward knew from Carlisle's memories that his mother had telephoned him hysterically and implored him to come to their house immediately the afternoon after his little cousin had fallen ill. He'd spent the night at the hospital in a chair with his little cousin in his lap next to his uncle's bedside, and had come down with the dreaded influenza himself as a result.

When he had not come downstairs by midafternoon the next day, his mother had checked on him. The memory of his mother finding him barely conscious, dripping with sweat, burning with fever, and weakly moaning in pain was one of the very few Edward was glad to have lost. Carlisle's memories of that phone call, hearing those words, and finding him in that condition were terrible enough.

Since finding Bella's letters, Edward had been going through some of the things Carlisle had taken from their house for him while he'd burned through the transformation. There were some things that meant something to him because they were connected to Bella, like his camera and the photographs he had taken and promised to send to her, but nothing short of her letters to him and the pictures she had sent him meant as much as their desk.

Their desk was the one thing that was connected to both his human family and Bella, and he couldn't wait to see it for himself.

Edward heard Bella run down the stairs as they approached the house. She stumbled, but Alice was there to catch her.

_Calm down. I know you're excited. BELIEVE ME, I know. But you need to relax. I understand why you're a wreck, but Bella won't. _

Jasper was right. He'd slipped up too much in front of Bella already. He didn't know what had possessed him in class yesterday morning. He'd practically quoted one of her first letters back to her, and he hadn't even noticed until he'd heard her soft gasp of surprise. It was just too natural to be open with her. She was too disarming. But Charlie had figured the truth out, as had his own mother all those years ago. Edward had to be careful. Bella could never learn the horrible truth of what he had become.

_Jeepers, Edward! I said calm down, but I didn't mean THAT down! Please TRY to act like a normal human being, would you? _

Edward's eyes were fixed straight ahead as they walked up the sidewalk. "I don't remember what it was like to be a normal human being, Jaz."

Edward's softly spoken answer surprised Jasper. Prior to Bella, Edward never referred to his past, and his family took pains to never remind him. Jasper looked at his brother. "I'm not sure you ever were normal," he said.

"Great. Thanks. I was a freak even then."

"Stop it. That's not what I meant, and you know it. You and your mate found each other _three generations before she was even born_, before you were even a vampire."

"I don't want this for her, Jaz. I don't. She deserves so much more. She deserves everything. A real future with a family, children. I can't give her that."

"Do you know if she even wants that?" Jasper continued before Edward could answer, "You're confusing what Esme, Rosalie, and Alice wanted with what Bella wants. Bella's not them, Edward. She's from a different time. Girls today aren't expected solely to find a husband and make babies."

"No. You're right, they're not. They can do so much more. Bella has so many more opportunities than girls had when you or I were human. She can do anything or be anything. I'd be taking her chance to have a career she loves away from her, too."

"Again, you don't know if she even wants a career. Just because the option is open to her, doesn't automatically mean she wants it. And if she does, why couldn't she have one as a vampire? Carlisle does, and Esme has worked as both an interior designer and an architect." He continued silently, _And I've written books on the War, even if those idiot publishers claimed I got my facts wrong. Can you imagine? They said _I _got _my _facts wrong. The audacity. No good Yankees. No offense. _

The brothers were quiet for a moment as they mounted the stairs to the porch, both lost in thought. Jasper remembered both the hell on Earth that was the Civil War and his outrage at the implication that some fat-assed 20th century publisher knew what that horrible time had been like better than he. Edward remembered the incredulous looks and thoughts every time he studied for a doctorate. People had trouble believing him to be older than his seventeen years, and he was over six feet tall; they would never believe it of his Bella.

"She's only seventeen, and she looks younger still. Do you want her to pretend to be Doogie Houser? Say she graduated college at twelve?"

"She's only seventeen now_._"

"That's exactly my point. She's only seventeen."

"No, you're missing _my_ point. She's only seventeen _now._ She won't _stay_ seventeen. She doesn't have to be changed _today_. There's no rush. Wait a few years, 'til she's in her early twenties."

"She doesn't _have_ to be changed _ever_."

Inside the house, Alice and Tanya had heard every word. Alice let the vision of Edward and Bella together and happy after her change run through her mind. Tanya asked him with her thoughts, _But what if she wants to be changed? _But it was Jasper whose thoughts were the hardest to ignore. _What about when she gets sick? Or hurt? If she stays human she eventually will, you know. She won't live forever. Are you prepared to watch her die? What do you intend to do afterward? Set yourself on fire? Esme's already lost one son, would you put her through that again? _

Tanya opened the front door for them, and Charlie stood behind her. This was the first time either Edward or Jasper had seen him since finding out he'd known the truth of what they were for months. It was odd to say the least. He looked at them standing uncomfortably on his front porch for a moment before he nervously asked if he needed to invite them in. Tanya turned around and put her arms around him as she laughed happily, "Another myth."

"Oh. Well, please come in anyway."

Bella and Alice came into the living room from the kitchen, talking and laughing quietly. Bella had changed clothes since coming home from school and was wearing a dark green hoodie with a white turtle neck underneath and an old and faded pair of jeans about to wear through at the knees. Edward knew Alice was silently seething, but he thought his mate looked even more beautiful; these clothes were more _Bella_ than the designer things from Alice.

And he had to admit, there really was just something about a faded pair of jeans.

The only thing Bella was wearing that really mattered though was his locket, which was resting against her chest near her heart.

The movers were expected soon, and Edward could see for himself and hear from Jasper how excited she was to get their desk back. He loved seeing her so happy. But his good mood didn't last long. He was barely in the house and with Bella for five minutes before he heard their thoughts, and his body automatically tensed for a fight. He moved into a defensive position close to Bella and had to fight to resist his natural instinct to go into crouch, ready to spring in attack. Jasper tensed in response to Edward's reaction and Alice and Tanya looked at him in concern, Tanya's eyes darting between him and Charlie. All three asked the same unspoken question, _What is it?_

Edward answered much too quietly for Charlie and Bella to hear, "A complication."

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Notes – The total rainfall for Phoenix in 2009 was a grand total of 3.26 inches; their average for the first decade of the 21st century was about 5 ¾ inches per year. On Monday, January 4, 2010, Forks had 2.62 inches of rain in one day. So, they really did have nearly as much rain in one day as Phoenix had had in the previous year, not even 2/3 of an inch difference. (God, I really need help.)

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Teasers for chapter 28 submitted to:

Fictionators – Teaser Mondays

Twificcentral – Twi Fic Bites Teasers – Wednesdays

Twi & VD Fic Recs – Tuesday

Twilight Fic Zone – Saturday

It's the same teaser regardless of what site you see it on. I will also try to visit the Sneak Peek campfire on A Different Forest on Monday night.

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Drop me a review and let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading!


	28. Chapter 28

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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David update—They're coming home! They're on the road as I type. David is doing so well, so much better than they'd dared hope that he is well enough to come home. He'll have to go back to Minnesota for follow-up, but they're coming hope weeks ahead of what they'd thought. Thank you so very much to everyone who sent prayers and well wishes!

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"A complication? You mean the dogs are coming?" Edward nodded his head minutely in response to Jasper, whose military experience was taking over as he planned both defensive and offensive strategies.

Alice said, "They're bluffing. They have no intention of actually coming here, I'd know. All of our futures would've vanished if they'd planned to confront us."

Edward relaxed as he heard more of their thoughts. The fight he'd seen in their minds was one they hoped the Cullens would start, not one they intended to start themselves. "Alice is right. They don't want to attack us. They want _us_ to start something. They want _us_ to go after _them_ so they can prove to Charlie how dangerous we are. They don't like so many of us being here with him and Bella, and they want to make sure we know they're still watching."

Edward didn't add that Jacob Black specifically wanted to make him look bad in front of Bella.

"We don't give them what they want. We ignore them." Jasper's words were spoken with the authority of a commanding officer, and Edward, Alice, and Tanya obeyed them as such. The whole exchange took less than three seconds, and neither Charlie nor Bella noticed anything. By then, Bella had moved to the window and was anxiously looking out, waiting for the movers, and Charlie had returned his attention to the basketball game he'd been watching before Edward and Jasper had arrived.

Edward and Jasper were incredulous. Even though Charlie knew he and his very human daughter were in a room with four vampires, he was perfectly at ease. He truly wasn't afraid of them.

Refusing to think that were Bella to one day know the truth, she may not be afraid either, Edward continued carefully listening to the pack's thoughts as they drove through Forks, paying particular attention to Jacob's—the should-be Alpha of the Quileute pack was mentally planning out a rematch between them.

Jacob really wanted him to start something—he was still seething over how quickly and easily Edward had taken him down in August, and he was chomping at the bit for revenge. But Edward had more important things on his mind, like the excitement and anticipation in his love's eyes as she peered out the window and the way her hair shone in the cloud-muted sunlight.

Her eyes…. That look in her eyes was for _him_. It would never cease to astonish him that this amazing girl loved _him_.

No—the boy she loved was Edward Masen. He wasn't Edward Masen anymore. He couldn't even remember the person Bella loved. He was Edward Cullen now, and Edward Cullen was a monster.

_WOULD YOU GIVE IT A REST! _

Edward cast an apologetic glance at Jasper, knowing his mood swings must be making him dizzy.

Edward was hoping the movers would be late, so he would have longer with his mate, but as always happens when you actually want someone to be late, they arrived ten minutes early. When Bella saw them pull up in front of the house, her face lit up in a radiant smile, and she ran out the door. Edward was sure that smile, combined with the look in her eyes, would've driven him to his knees had Jasper not been standing next to him, smirking and making whip-like cracking and snapping sounds in his mind.

Jasper took him by the elbow and led him out the door while laughing at him. _Come on, lover boy._

The delivery men were anxious to finish their last delivery of the day and were opening the back of the truck as Edward followed Bella outside. She was standing on the sidewalk bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. He could feel his own excitement grow. Now that the delivery men were actually here, they couldn't move fast enough, in Edward's opinion. His only memory of seeing their desk being through the eyes of others, he wanted to see it for himself.

Using a large flatbed dolly, the men wheeled their desk onto the hydraulic lift platform at the back of the truck and lowered it to the ground. It was well covered to protect it from damage during the move, and as soon as the men pushed it into the house, Bella began cutting away at the layers of heavy-duty bubble wrap. Her joy at having it back again was contagious, and Edward was soon ripping away at the protective coverings with her.

Between the two of them, they had the desk uncovered in very little time, and they stood together, side by side, looking down at it in awe.

Edward heard Bella's breath catch and shudder, and when he looked over at her, a tear was spilling down her cheek. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently wiped it away with the back of his fingers. "Shhh, don't cry. I'm right here," he whispered.

Bella lifted her face to him, and Edward's breath froze in his lungs as an eternity passed in the few seconds they stood looking into each other's eyes. He could hear his family asking him incredulously if he realized what he'd just said, but he tuned them out. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way the love of his existence was looking at him right now.

Well, that and Alice's meddling. That mattered too. "Hey, Edward, didn't your grandfather, the Major, have a desk just like that?"

Edward was so lost in beautiful deep chocolate brown eyes that he almost missed Alice's question, but when it fully registered in his distracted brain he hissed at his sister. He tore his eyes from Bella's and turned angrily toward his sister but not before he saw Bella's mouth open slightly in surprise. He wished he could just ignore Alice's question, but he knew he couldn't—it would be suspicious if he didn't respond. Edward's mind was flying as he tried to think of the best lie, but he couldn't lie to his mate. There was nothing he could do but answer with the truth, at least part of the truth, and hope Alice would let it go. "I don't remember my grandparents," he said. "Jasper, you get the other side."

Jasper slowly stepped away from Alice and took his position across from Edward. _She's only doing what she believes is the best for the both of you. _

"Be careful, it's very heav—" Bella's words cut off abruptly as they easily lifted their desk.

Edward groaned as he and Jasper looked at each other. How could they have been so stupid? Two human teenage boys would not have been able to lift the large, solid mahogany desk so easily. _There's nothing we can do about it now. Just try to look like you're struggling. _They made a very convincing show of struggling with the weight of the desk as they easily moved toward the stairs and maneuvered it up and into Bella's bedroom.

Bella didn't say a word as she followed them, and Edward was growing desperate with the need to know what she was thinking. Two more major slip ups with Alice's question right in the middle. Fantastic. _Why don't I just wear some plastic fangs and a cape to school tomorrow?_ he thought angrily to himself.

Alice walked ahead of them, directing them to Bella's room, and they set the desk down in the spot she indicated. She smirked and arched her eyebrow at him as he passed her. _Smooth, Edward. Real smooth. She'll never notice anything. Not a thing._

"You're not helping, Alice."

Her smirk turned into a genuine smile as the vision of Edward and Bella together and happy after her change passed through her mind again, more solid than ever before. _Yes, I am. Whether you want to admit it or not. _A folding chair was leaning against the closet door, and Alice opened it and set it in front of their desk. "It's not quite the chair a desk like this deserves, but it'll have to do." _For now,_ Alice continued to herself.

Edward repressed another groan as images of leather desk chairs from high-end designer catalogs flashed through Alice's mind.

Bella crossed the room; it looked as if she was gliding, being drawn by an unseen force rather than just walking. As she sat down in front of their desk, her eyes closed slowly and she drew a deep shuddering breath, her hands pressed flat on the green leather.

Pulled toward his mate by that same force, Edward silently knelt down next to her.

With her eyes still closed and a soft smile that would make the Mona Lisa jealous, Bella lifted her hand and trailed her fingertips first across the stained leather before moving them to the top drawer on the right. It was without a doubt the most beautiful sight Edward had ever seen, the most wonderful experience he'd ever had. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to bury his face in her hair, to press his lips against her skin, to whisper to her how much he loved her. Bella was sitting right where she'd sat when she'd written to him, right where he'd sat when he'd written to her. He didn't need to hear her thoughts to know what she was thinking in that moment. Just as he was, she was reliving each of their letters. Except she had the advantage over him of remembering the letters he wrote to her as well. Not for the first time did Edward wish he could remember his letters to her.

Alice and Jasper were on the other side of the room, and Tanya and Charlie were in the doorway. As his family excused themselves he heard Charlie say Tanya's name, and he heard the question that one word held even if he couldn't hear the thoughts behind it in their entirety. He would have to talk to Charlie, but not right now. Right now, he was enjoying these few moments with his mate. Right now, there was nothing except the two of them. Right now, nothing else mattered.

.

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

.

"_I love you, Bella."_

"I love you, too, Edward."

"_I am so dreadfully tired, and I ache terribly."_

"Edward, I'm so sorry."

"_I remain… Yours…." _The voice in her dream trailed off.

"Edward!" Bella shouted in her dream.

"_Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die."_

"Edward…."

"_It's going to be alright. I'm here. There's nothing to fear."_

Bella had had this dream before over the past weeks. The first time was the night after her desk had been delivered. She ran frantically through a forest, trying to get to the shimmering light ahead of her, but was unable to reach it. But unlike the nightmare of chasing Edward through the hospital as he was being pushed toward the morgue on a gurney, she could feel that she would reach him—if she just kept running, if she didn't give up.

"_Don't cry. I'm right here." _

"Edward!"

She rolled out of bed, reaching for someone who wasn't there and landed hard on the floor in a tangle of sheets and blankets. As always when she awoke from one of her various Edward dreams, she was disoriented and confused. Which was real? The dream with the voice that seemed to come at her from all directions, reassuring her, telling her everything was alright and not to cry, or Forks, with its clouds and rain and her father and Tanya and her new friends?

As always, eventually the dream faded away no matter how hard she tried to hold onto it, and Forks became more and more solid.

"Bells? You OK in there?"

Bella sat on the floor, leaned against her bed, pulled her knees up to her chest, and rested her elbows on them. She sighed and dropped her head into her hands. "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. Just… fell out of bed." She ran her hands through her hair before getting up. She'd landed hard on her right shoulder and when she leaned on her hand to stand up it hurt. Pushing her T-shirt sleeve up, Bella was unsurprised to see a nice red mark already forming. _Oh, yeah. That's gonna bruise. _

She sat down on the edge of her bed and sighed. More and more these past few weeks she'd been dreaming about Edward telling her not to worry, not to cry, everything was fine, he was there. She supposed it was because the anniversary of finding his first letter was coming up in just a few days. Whatever the reason, she wished she could make them stop. They were lies, and they always left her feeling alone. Everything was _not_ fine, and he was _not_ here.

Just once, Bella wished she could see his face in her dreams, but she couldn't. Michael Masen had said he'd been very handsome, but aside from bronze hair and green eyes, she had no idea what Edward had actually looked like.

The alarm clock on her nightstand showed that it was 6:22 A.M. It was just as well that she had to get up in a few minutes anyway, going back to sleep after one of her dreams was never easy, and she shut the alarm off.

Michael had said something else, something she hadn't really thought about before. He'd said his grandmother had told him Edward had been her first love as a young girl, and for the first time, Bella began really thinking again about the family and friends he'd left behind. When Edward had been alive, she had cared about his family and friends as if she'd known them herself, as if they'd been her friends, too. But after he'd died, the pain of losing him was so overpowering, she hadn't been able to think about anything or anyone else.

Now, she could.

Bella supposed this was what people meant when they said, "Time heals all wounds." That wasn't entirely true though—the wound was still there. It would always be there, but she knew she wouldn't bleed to death from it now. Shuddering, Bella thought about just how close she had come to doing just that. But now the wound had scabbed over. It was a scar that ran to her very soul but that only she could see.

Bella played with the shorter strands of hair at the back of her neck. It had been nearly a year since they'd exchanged locks of hair. There was only a difference of about two inches now between the shorter strands and the rest of her hair. The next time she got her hair cut, it would be gone. She was afraid of that. It would be like ripping the scab off the wound. Would it start to bleed again?

_Don't think about that. Just… Don't think about it. Think about something else. Think about his family, _she told herself.

She knew Tommy Masen had married and had children, but whom did he marry? Whoever his wife was, she had known Edward as a young girl. She was from Chicago, then. Was she a neighbor? Michael had also told her that his grandfather and his brother and sister had tried to write to her. Had they moved back to Chicago soon after Edward died? Why? To help his mother?

His mother. Elizabeth.

Bella lowered her head and closed her eyes in remorse. How had she not thought about his mother before? The poor woman had lost both her husband and her only son in just a few months. She must've been inconsolable. Now that Bella was thinking about his family, she couldn't stop. There were so many questions she had that Michael might be able to answer. Could she call him again? Would he mind? Last time, he had sounded so happy to hear from her until she'd told him why she was calling. She looked at the clock again. 6:26 A.M.—8:26 A.M. in Chicago. Too early to call on a Sunday?

She groaned. It was much too early to be awake on a Sunday, period, but it was important. Fishing. She was out of bed before 6:30 A.M. on a Sunday _to go fishing._ Her mother hadn't believed her when she'd told her last night.

Bella stood up and stretched before moving to her window. Yup—The yellowish light shining through the window was in fact the sun. It was hard to believe, but she'd already been in Forks for six weeks. In all that time, this was only the fifth time she'd seen the sun. But today, unlike the other times when the sky was only clear for a few short hours, the weatherman promised the sun would be out all day. Her mother hadn't believed her when she'd told her that either. And it was a weekend, too. The weather would still only be in the mid-fifties, but she'd take it. Living in Forks you learned very quickly to take advantage of every sunny day you got, especially if it fell on the weekend. She didn't like fishing, but at least she'd be outside all day.

Bella leaned against the wall, looked out the window toward the forest, and allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the sight of the sun before gathering her things to take a shower. Might as well get moving—it was only early for her; for one of her father and Billy's fishing trips this was late. They'd usually already have been out for an hour by now, but they were taking it easy on her as it was her first time. As she leaned down the stairs and hollered to her father that she was taking a shower, she could smell the chocolate chip muffins Tanya had left for them, and she inhaled deeply. They alone were worth getting up early for.

As she showered, Bella decided she would definitely call Michael Masen again today. Hopefully, she would be able to get reception at wherever they were going.

.

.

"Um… Jake? How are we going to get your dad down that?"

Bella was whispering, tactfully trying not to be overheard by their fathers, but Jacob just smiled at her and tapped the tip of her nose with his finger.

"Don't you worry. I got it covered," he responded.

Bella rubbed her nose and looked very doubtfully back at the path through the trees he had pointed out to her a moment ago, but before she could ask exactly _how_ he had it covered, two of his friends came jogging up the path toward them. She had spent some time on the rez with Jacob over the past several weeks and had met them before. Their names were Quil and Embry, and they were just as tall and as muscled as Jacob. The temperature was still only in the forties, but they were both shirtless and wearing only cut-off jean shorts and sneakers. That seemed to be the standard uniform for Jacob and his friends, regardless of the temperature. Today, however, Jacob was wearing a grey hoodie and black jeans. "I still don't get how you guys aren't cold."

Quil and Embry grinned at each other and elbowed Jacob as they passed him. "We're much too hot to get cold. Ain't that right, Jakie?"

Bella rolled her eyes and laughed, though she thought for a moment there just might be something in that. Where Edward, Alice, and Tanya always felt cold to the touch, Jacob and his friends felt like they had a fever. A really, really high fever.

She watched in amazement as Quil and Embry stood on either side of Billy and easily picked him up, wheelchair and all. Billy Black was not a small man. Bella figured he was at least 180 pounds, plus however much the wheelchair weighed, but Quil and Embry lifted and carried him down the long path through the woods as easily as if he was a toddler on a small plastic chair. The path from the parking lot to the creek where they liked to fish had to be at least a quarter of a mile long, and the uneven, rocky ground was broken in several spots by large tree roots protruding through the soil. This was nothing like the smooth, wheelchair-accessible campsite and fishing area from last summer, but Jake's friends made it look easy. Their footing was sure; they didn't struggle carrying Billy in the least and weren't even the slightest bit winded by the time they arrived.

Bella, on the other hand, had trouble keeping up and stumbled several times, only to be caught each time by Jacob.

_There must be something in the air up here, or maybe it's in the water_, she thought to herself. First Edward and Jasper had lifted their solid mahogany desk up the stairs as easily if it was nothing more than a plastic TV tray, now this. Bella shook her head. _Boys up here are just not normal_.

This was the first time their fathers had seen each other since their last fight about Tanya and her family weeks ago, and there was definite tension between them. They barely spoke, and Bella began to fear that this may have been one time too many, that their lifelong friendship might really be over. It seemed so stupid to her. Two grown men who had been such good friends for so long, who had been through so much together—she just couldn't understand it. Her father and Tanya loved each other. How could her father's friends on the reservation not see that? Tanya was everything she could ever have wanted for her father and more, and her family was full of wonderful people. She could not understand why they couldn't just be happy for him.

The stream was much wider and looked deeper than she expected. They'd had so much rain lately, even by Forks standards, that the stream had swollen to more of a small river than what she, personally, would think of as a stream. Bella looked around and inhaled deeply, the air up here was so _clean_. It really was a beautiful place, especially with the practically-unheard-of-for-the-area-at-this-time-of-year bright blue sky. The sun was shining down on them from that bright blue sky, glistening off the rushing water, and she turned her face up to it, like a flower seeking out the sun's rays.

Since it was only February, a lot of the trees were still bare, but there were at least as many different types of coniferous trees as there were deciduous, and it was still very green. The beauty of the ancient forest was striking, enhanced by all the shades of green contrasted by the bare limbs, limbs which appeared dead but held just as much life inside them as the evergreens.

Again, Bella got the impression of this being almost a magical place. She wouldn't be surprised to look up and see a unicorn or an elf looking back at her. This place had been here, unchanged, for centuries, and it gave the impression that it would always continue to be here. Long before and long after people, this forest, this stream, and these rocks had been and would continue to be here. Bella shook her head and laughed quietly to herself. _Magic and unicorns and elves…. What has gotten into you? What's next? Witches and wizards?_

Years ago, before Billy had been confined to a wheelchair, he and her father would've worn waders and gone out into the stream, but now they sat along the side. The men quietly got themselves set up, and Bella made herself comfortable in her folding chair with her chenille throw around her legs, her book, and her thermos of Tanya's most incredible hot chocolate.

The woman could seriously sell the stuff under that name: "Tanya's Most Incredible Hot Chocolate."

She offered some to both Billy and Jacob, but not unexpectedly, both refused. At least they were polite about it and didn't turn green or gag.

The sun promised to warm the day, but it was still early, and the air so close to the water was much cooler, causing Bella to shiver.

"You can't possibly be cold," Jacob laughed at her as she adjusted the blanket over her legs, and she stuck her tongue out at him, which only made him laugh harder.

"Not everyone can be a human radiator."

"What can I say, you've either got the blood for it or you don't."

His father looked at him proudly, and her father looked uncomfortably straight ahead. Bella couldn't understand either's reaction.

The hours passed quietly; there was very little talking, but at least, there was no arguing.

Sometime after noon, Bella stood and stretched. She offered, "I'm starved. Anyone want a sandwich?"

Billy and her father agreed, and Jacob went with her to where they had set the cooler a few yards away by some large rocks. Tanya had packed roast beef sandwiches for her father and tuna salad for her, and Billy and Jacob had brought their own.

"What book are you reading?" Jacob asked.

"_Persuasion_."

By the look on his face, Jacob obviously wasn't familiar with the book, not that Bella would honestly have expected him to be. She looked sadly down at the ground. She wouldn't expect a teenage boy _today _to be familiar with it, but it had been one of Edward's favorites. "It's from Jane Austen," she explained.

He didn't seem to recognize the author any more than he had the book. "I don't think we have to read her. We had to read _A Tale of Two Cities_ this year."

"Oh, that's a great book. 'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.' Did you like it?"

But Jacob clearly didn't share Bella's love of reading, and the conversation moved on to their other subjects. Bella said, "At least you don't have to do public speaking. That's what we're doing now. I have to do a reading in front of the class tomorrow. I am so not looking forward to it."

"Public speaking isn't so bad. I don't see why people get so nervous about it. What's the difference between talking in front of twenty or thirty people and talking to me now?"

"Nineteen or twenty nine people."

Jacob laughed.

"You think it's so easy? How about you do my reading tomorrow, and I'll take your test on _A Tale of Two Cities_."

"No can do. You're about two feet too short and two months too late."

"Crap."

"What do you have to read? Or do you have to give a speech or something?"

"We got to pick for ourselves at least, thank God. It's bad enough having to speak in front of the class. I'm reading one of Shakespeare's sonnets."

Jacob shook his head, smiling and arching his eyebrows in question, and Bella recited the full sonnet.

"You had to memorize the whole thing? That sucks. Can't you at least have notes with you?"

"I already knew it. I read it at my mom's wedding in November."

Bella had known it by heart long before that, but there was no need to tell Jacob that.

"If you've already read it in front of people you should be used to it."

"That was different."

It was very different. That hadn't been in front of twenty teenagers.

They took their fathers their lunches, but instead of sitting back down themselves, Jacob motioned to her to follow him. "Let's leave them alone for a while." As they ate, Bella checked her cell phone. No reception. She'd have to wait until they got home to call Michael. "Waiting for a call?" Jacob asked.

She shook her head and put her phone back in her pocket, "No. I wanted to make one, but I don't have any reception."

"Anyone important?"

Jacob was making an effort to behave; they'd had arguments of their own about her friendship with Alice and Edward Cullen over the past few weeks, but she heard the tension in his voice even though he had clearly tried to restrain it. She appreciated the effort.

She answered, "Cousin of a friend. It can wait."

Jacob opened another can of soda and looked around for a few minutes quietly while Bella finished her sandwich. He'd already had four. "So what's your book about?" he asked as she finished eating.

She gave him the briefest description she could, because it was clear he'd only asked to be polite, but it was difficult to keep it brief since the book meant so much to her. They talked easily for a few minutes about some of the kids on the rez Jacob had introduced her to before their conversation turned to their fathers.

"It's good to see your dad. We've really missed him," Jacob said, trying to sound casual but failing—she could hear the stiffness in his voice.

Bella tensed. This was where things could get difficult. "He's missed you, too."

The silence that followed wasn't exactly uncomfortable but was definitely not as easy as it had been a few minutes ago. Bella was afraid she knew what Jacob was going to say next, and she wished he wouldn't. If they got into an argument about Tanya and her family in front of their fathers, it would not help matters at all.

Her wish was in vain. "So, what are the Cullens doing today? Out enjoying the sun, are they?" Jacob asked. They were perfectly innocent questions. Anyone could've asked them and meant nothing more than just a polite inquiry about her friends, but coming from Jacob and with the animosity between them, they seemed to hold an accusation in spite of his casual tone.

Or perhaps they seemed accusatory _because_ of his casual tone. _Out enjoying the sun, are they?_ It was almost said as if they had no right to enjoy the sun like everyone else.

"They went camping," Bella answered defensively.

Alice and Edward had told her at school on Friday that their father had some time off at the hospital, and they were all, Tanya included, leaving for a cabin they owned farther down the coast that afternoon.

_Edward._ Bella sighed. Edward Cullen and she had become very good friends over the past few weeks, closer even than she and Alice were. As close as she and her Edward had been, and just like with her Edward, it had happened very easily. At first, she really was afraid that with all the superficial similarities between the two, she was subconsciously using Edward Cullen to try to partially fill the void left behind when her Edward had died, but it wasn't that at all. Although they really were very alike—even some of the expressions Edward Cullen used were more like those her Edward had used than what high school boys used today—they had their differences, too.

Edward Cullen had clearly had a much harder life than Edward Masen had had, and it showed. He always looked not just tired, but as if he carried a horrible burden on his shoulders that even with as close as his family was, he had to carry alone. Her Edward had known heartbreak in the last months of his life; Edward Cullen seemed to have known it his entire life. Bella badly wanted to ask about his biological family and how he had come to be adopted, but he never mentioned them, and she didn't feel it was her place to bring it up. If he didn't want to talk about them, that was clearly his business.

Sometimes when she looked at Edward, she felt like she had no secrets from him, as if he was able to recognize in her a person who had lost someone they loved very much because he had too. Sometimes when she looked at him, she was afraid of how he was looking at her, like he wanted to be more than just friends.

Sometimes, she was afraid she wanted that too.

.

.

"Twelve hours? They were at the hospital almost every day for weeks for twelve hours? We knew they volunteered at the hospital, my grandfather and his family volunteered too, but we had no idea they were there that long. They must've been exhausted."

Bella was talking to Michael Masen. She'd called him after returning from fishing, and they'd been on the phone for a good while already. It was a weight off her shoulders to have someone she could talk to about Edward, and she was thankful that Michael seemed as happy to hear about Edward—having grown up with the story of their desk— as she was to tell him about him.

"They were," she explained, "but they never gave up. Edward told me a friend of theirs at the hospital ordered them to stay home at least once. He wasn't happy about it. And it wasn't only at the hospital. Their friend was one of the doctors, and they went out into the community with him, too. As many people as there were at the hospital, he said there were several times that number sick at home. Whole families sometimes."

Bella told Michael about the Rinaldi family Edward had told her about, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with sympathy. "Watching your children die one by one like that, in such a horrible way. And first his wife. That poor man. I can't even imagine what that time must've been like. I'm ashamed to say we never really even thought about it. We knew it was terrible, of course, but we had no idea just how bad it really was. I think we tended to focus on your and Edward's story. My grandparents seem to have down-played just how bad it really was. They must not have wanted to talk about it."

"It wasn't just them. It seems like everyone who lived through it wanted to forget. October 1918 was the deadliest month in American history—nearly two hundred thousand people died that month. Nearly twice that number died overall, and today hardly anyone has any idea it ever happened."

"I do remember my grandmother saying she wasn't allowed to volunteer at the hospital with her sisters because her father said she was too young, so she helped at the Red Cross instead. I can't say I blame them for wanting to forget. I think I probably would have too."

Bella swallowed hard before she asked the question that had been in the back of her mind. "Do you know… little Charlie…."

"Oh, of course you'd want to know that. He was fine. Both he and his father recovered. My grandfather's family became very close to Elizabeth's family after they moved back to Chicago." Bella thought she heard a distinct smile in his voice, but she was too relieved to know that little Charlie survived to think what it meant, and she let out a breath of relief. Michael continued, "Charlie lived a long life. He married and had seven children. He moved out west somewhere, but I don't know where exactly. He named his first son Edward, that much I do know. My grandfather wanted you to know that." Just like before, Bella heard something in his voice, a slight hesitation this time, but she didn't dwell on it. Edward's family hadn't forgotten him. His little cousin even named his son after him. "Oh! Edward must have loved that. I'm sure he was thrilled about it. I'm so glad no one else in his family died, thank God for that."

If Michael Masen thought it was odd that she spoke of Edward as if he had been there for his cousin's child's birth and knew he'd named the baby after him, he didn't comment. He did, however, have something to tell her. "Bella…." he began.

Bella felt her blood freeze. That tone of voice could hold nothing good. Edward _hadn't_ been the only one from his family to die. She knew it before Michael said another word.

"Bella, honey, I'm so sorry, but I have to tell you."

He hesitated and the pause seemed to drag on and on, and she ran through his family in her head. _His cousin, Clara? Please not Clara. He said she was volunteering at the hospital, too. His whole family was, really. But, Clara… she'd just gotten engaged… and her fiancé had already lost his parents and his brother… His Aunt Grace? Her husband and son were both sick, I'm sure she stayed at their bedside nonstop…._ It was amazing. People thought time slowed down when bad things happened, but that wasn't true at all. Your mind sped up. Time seemed to pass slower because your mind was working so much faster, processing everything so much faster. _I know Tommy, Laura, and Mic all survived… but what about their parents? Did his Aunt Louise move back to Chicago with her children because her husband had died? _

When Michael did speak again his words were rushed, like a man who had to tell someone something he desperately wished he didn't and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. "My grandfather told me the doctor—who was a very good friend of both Edward's and his mother's, the same one you mentioned most likely, but I don't know his name—told his father that she wasn't as sick as Edward was, that he had expected her to recover, at least initially, but she refused to stay in bed. He tried everything. He reasoned with her, he begged her, he ordered her…. I remember my grandfather said the doctor told his father he even threatened to pick her up and carry her bodily into another ward if she got out of bed again, but she insisted on nursing him herself… If she hadn't, if she hadn't, she likely would've recovered."

Bella was confused. It sounded like Michael was talking about Anna taking care of her sister, Lillian, but that didn't make any sense because he was saying "him," and both Anna and Lillian Stevenson had survived. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you mean."

She heard him take a deep breath. "Bella, Elizabeth Masen died a few hours before her son."

Bella couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She couldn't even move. His mother, Edward's mother. Elizabeth. Elizabeth, who had had to watch her husband die from the epidemic before they even knew it was an epidemic. Elizabeth, who had worked her fingers to the bone nursing victims for so many weeks and watched so many of them succumb. Elizabeth, whose worry for her beloved son wanting to enlist and fight in World War One had been the reason Bella had written that very first letter nearly a year ago in the first place. Elizabeth, who had been the reason she and Edward had the short time together they'd had.

Edward had had to lie there helplessly and watch his mother die, just as Mr. Rinaldi had had to watch four of his six children die. Edward had told her once that he'd wondered if the poor man had only fought long enough to not leave any of his children to suffer alone. Edward died a few hours after his mother. Had he done that same thing? Had he been unable to make her stay in bed, to make her take care of herself? Had fighting for himself only long enough to not leave her alone, to not let _her_ have to see _him_ die, been the only thing he could do for her?

Michael explained, "She collapsed at his bedside. At first, their friend had hoped it was just exhaustion, she had been at Edward's bedside from the moment they brought him in three days earlier, but the moment he touched her, he knew."

Bella spoke through the lump in her throat without realizing her mind had formed a question, "How long were they sick?"

"Edward, six days. Elizabeth, three. They died on October 30th, three hours apart."

Bella wrapped her arm around her stomach and doubled over. _Six days? He went through _six days _of that? _All the symptoms of that horrible disease were flashing through her mind like lightening. It was even worse than she'd feared. _Six days?_ Her Edward had suffered through six days of that hell before he'd finally died.

She didn't realize she'd spoken out loud until Michael answered her, "He was delirious or sedated for most of it, Bella. The doctor told my great grandfather that he didn't believe Edward was ever aware his mother was sick too. Between the fever and the drugs he was being given, he was barely conscious most of the time. He gave him morphine, trying to help him rest as comfortably as possible. Their friend was with them both when they died. My grandfather said the man was inconsolable with grief. He said you'd have thought they were his own family by how hard he took their loss."

Bella spoke in a whisper, "I'm glad of that. That they weren't alone, I mean. He said so many people died alone. I'm…. At least they didn't. I'm glad for that. He mentioned…. Edward mentioned their friend to me several times, but he never mentioned him by name. I know he looked up to him a great deal. He was there when Edward took little Charlie into the hospital in the middle of the night, and he was with him when they found his friend, Lillian, sick at her sister's bedside."

Several seconds of silence on the other end followed her words, and for a moment Bella was afraid her phone had dropped the call. "Michael? Are you there? Did I lose you?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm here. Just…. What did you just say? Lillian was found sick at her sister's bedside?"

"Yeah, Lillian was one of Edward's closest friends. Her sister, Anna, got the flu and was in the hospital. Lillian was reading to her when she got sick too. They found her together when the doctor went to check on Anna. She was really very sick. I knew he was afraid she wouldn't make it but he wouldn't admit it. He never gave up hope, though."

"_Anna_? You do mean Lillian and Anna _Stevenson_?"

"Yes, did your grandfather know the Stevensons?"

"Oh, yes. Very well. Anna Stevenson was my grandmother. We had no idea she and her sister had been sick. They never told us. I can't believe they never told us."

Bella was too stunned to speak at first, but a slow smile soon spread across her face. Anna had married Tommy Masen. _Edward must've been so pleased_.

Michael's voice trembled when he continued, "You said she almost didn't make it. Did you mean my grandmother or her sister?"

"It was Lillian. Edward was very worried about her. He said once Anna, your grandmother, learned her sister was sick, they couldn't keep her in bed. She kept getting out of bed to take care of her sister. They finally threatened to move her to a different ward." Bella's voice trailed off, and it was a moment before either spoke again. It was too similar to Edward's mother's refusing to stay in bed after she got sick, but, thankfully, Anna had listened and recovered.

"Yeah, that sounds exactly like my grandmother. Aunt Lillian—jeez, I can't believe it. She lived to be ninety-two, and I don't remember her ever being sick a single day in my life."

Bella's eyes filled with happy tears, genuinely glad to hear that one of Edward's closest friends had had such a long life, and she listened to Michael tell her all he knew about the lives Edward's friends and family had led. Not only had they not forgotten him, but Edward seemed to have taken on the role of Cupid. Michael's grandparents weren't the only couple with connections to Edward to marry. Lillian had married his cousin, Hugh Benson—who, with the financial support he'd received from first Edward's father then Edward himself, had completed his studies and passed the bar. He'd gone on to follow Edward, Sr's. footsteps and entered the District Attorney's Office, and together, he and Lillian had had four daughters.

Edward's house had been left to his Uncle Charles, and the family had moved back to Chicago in early 1919. Edward's friends called on them shortly after they arrived to welcome them, and his friend, Will Collins, and his cousin, Laura, fell in love. They had married and had also named one of their sons Edward.

In all, between all of Edward's cousins and friends, and between first and middle names, there were seven baby boys named after him, and the name continued in the family to this day. Both Michael and his brother had Edward as their middle name, and Michael told her that his nephew and his fiancée were expecting a baby boy, who they intended to name Edward.

Bella was too emotional to speak for several moments. Without ever even really knowing him, they'd kept him as a part of the family to this day. She understood now how Edward had felt when he'd told her that telling his cousins about her felt right—now, it was her turn to tell his cousins about him.

"Would you…. Would you like to see some of his letters?" she asked. She never thought she'd ever share his letters with anyone, but his family deserved to know him, and he deserved it as well.

When Michael spoke, Bella could hear how much he appreciated her offer, but he told her their letters were personal.

Bella insisted, "I want you to have them. Really. I want you to know him." She told Michael how it had taken her hours to find the hidden compartment, and how surprised she had been that there was actually still an old letter in it. In spite of his initial protest that what happened between them was too private, she could tell he was eager to learn as much as possible about the long deceased cousin he'd heard so much about from his grandparents. "I can't explain it. I just felt so badly for his mother worrying so much about him. I wanted her to know it would be OK. I don't know what came over me, but I wrote to him telling him I'd found his letter, and his mother had nothing to worry about. The war would be over in a few months, long before he turned eighteen."

They were both silent again for a few moments. What had once been things to look forward to—the end of the war, his 18th birthday—were things neither Edward nor his mother had lived to see. Who knew then that they'd been facing a danger as great or even greater than the great war itself?

The pain Bella had been living with for so many months now threatened to flare up, but she wouldn't let it. This was not the time to cry because he had died. This was the time to smile because he had lived.

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I know, Edward did mention Carlisle by name twice-in the very first letter to his cousin, Mic, and in the very last letter to Bella right before he told Bella he loved her. Those are two of the letters Bella hasn't reread, and with everything she's experienced, she just doesn't remember it. At least, that's how I see it in my mind. I think it's plausible that with everything she's gone through, a name mentioned only twice over a course of about four months and several dozen letters has completely slipped her mind. She hasn't reread the letter to Mic because she wanted to reread the letters Edward actually wrote _to her_. And the last letter, where he told her he loved her and unknowingly described the Spanish Flu symptoms he was feeling without realizing what they were is still too painful. I hope that makes sense.

I hope you like it. Drop me a review and let me know!


	29. Chapter 29

I've just seen a headline that there's a surprise ending for BD part 2. I'm pulling for vampire Charlie. Hehehehehehe. Sue who? Personally, although SM never came out and said so, I think canon Charlie had to know the Cullens, and now Bella, were vampires. He knows Jacob is a werewolf, and who thinks of werewolves without thinking of vampires? Especially given that they hate each other.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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The next morning, when Edward and Alice arrived to drive her to school, Bella was in her bedroom sitting at their desk. Last night she had promised to scan some of Edward's letters and e-mail them to Michael, so the family could have the chance to get to know him, and she was sorting out which ones she wanted to send.

_Definitely his original letter to Mic, and all the early ones,_ Bella mused._ I think they'll get a kick out of what he said about the Titanic exhibit of just life jackets and life boats. And all of the ones from after the epidemic hit—I want them to see what that time was really like and how brave he was, how selfless they were, to know what their grandmother and her family went through. _

Bella had thought the Masons had her letters to Edward, but Michael had explained that shortly after Edward and Elizabeth had died, their house had been broken into and robbed, and her letters to Edward were believed to have been among the things taken, because his grandfather and his brother and sister had never been able to find them. Michael had told her that Edward's bedroom had been especially hard hit; it had been ransacked and practically all of his belongings had been taken, from his clothing to his books.

_But why was his room the hardest hit? Was the guy the same size as Edward? Was that why he took his clothes? Maybe the person knew Edward somehow—that would explain how he knew that both he and his mother had died and that the house would be empty. Not even Maggie or Nellie had been there. Maybe the person knew Edward but didn't like him. Not only was Edward at least somewhat wealthy, but he was very intelligent and very handsome according to Mic. Maybe the guy was jealous of him, and that was why he hit his room the hardest. _

At first, Bella had been furious. She still was, but a thread of apprehension had begun to work its way in. With some of the things she had told Edward, from astronauts to computers, she wondered if she should be afraid that the government would be knocking the door down any minute.

Bella told herself she was being ridiculous and that whoever had robbed Edward's house was just some random thief looking for money or anything he could sell; he was surely not interested in a seventeen-year-old boy's personal letters and had probably just thrown them away. But she still couldn't help looking out her window half expecting to see a S.W.A.T. team surrounding her house.

What Bella saw out her window wasn't the CIA; it was Alice and Edward just pulling up in front of her house in Edward's silver Volvo. She hurriedly put her Edward's letters away, deciding to just scan and e-mail all of them, with the exception of the last page of his last letter. That was just too personal. That was where he'd told her he loved her. She still hadn't reread his last letter; she couldn't bring herself to look at it yet. Knowing he was already sick with the disease that would slowly kill him over the next six days, seeing his words unknowingly describing his early symptoms…. It was still too much. But she would send them the rest of his letters. Edward deserved for his family to know him, and those letters were the only way they could. She wouldn't keep any of them back.

Bella gathered her books and was halfway down the stairs when the doorbell rang. Her Edward was so present in her mind at that moment that seeing Edward Cullen standing at her front door and smiling at her took her breath away, and she lost her train of thought completely. He had that effect on her a lot. It was mostly his eyes, Bella thought. She knew he wasn't her Edward, and she knew she wasn't trying to replace one with the other, but every time Bella looked at Edward Cullen she couldn't help but expect his eyes to be green. Every time she saw his amber ones smiling at her, she couldn't help feeling it was all wrong.

His smile faded, and he looked at her in concern. "Are you OK?" he asked. He was looking at her oddly. He looked agonized.

She answered, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. How was your camping trip?"

Edward didn't answer her as he helped her on with her rain coat. The sun from yesterday was history, and this morning the clouds were back with a vengeance. It wasn't raining at the moment, but it had been earlier and would be again soon. Bella untucked her hair from under her coat with her left arm, and Edward picked her books up off the small side table where she'd set them down. "Why were you carrying your books with your left arm?"

There was obvious restrained anger in his voice, and the look on his face somehow reminded her of the way her father had reacted to the cut on her hand last August when they'd gone camping. That hadn't made any sense to her then, and Edward's expression didn't make any sense now, but she was sure he was looking directly at her right shoulder, as though he could see the bruise there from when she'd fallen out of bed yesterday.

"It's nothing. I fell. I do that a lot."

"You... How did you fall?" The anger was more noticeable in his voice, and his hands balled into fists so tightly she could see the tendons standing out. His body was so completely motionless, Bella couldn't be sure he was even breathing. She wasn't afraid, but she was worried. For him. He'd been smiling when she'd opened the door, but now he looked homicidal. _What could possibly have upset him so badly so quickly?_ Bella sighed. There was no use lying about it. Maybe he'd even get a laugh out of it, and it would help relax him. "I fell out of bed."

There was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, and he did relax. The anger was gone, but he still looked worried. "Did you hurt your right arm? You're favoring it."

His eyes were still on her shoulder, and her hand rose to it subconsciously. "It's just a bruise. It was mostly fine yesterday, but it was stiff when I woke up this morning. It's fine, really."

Edward tore his eyes away from her shoulder seemingly reluctantly and shook his head. "Only you could hurt yourself sleeping. Maybe I should get some of that bubble wrap the movers used and wrap you up in it so you can't hurt yourself."

"Oh, ha. Very funny." As Bella locked the door behind them her mind drifted back to the night their desk was delivered. Edward had helped her remove all the protective wrapping the movers had put on it. It had been very thick, heavy plastic, and she'd needed a knife to cut through it. Edward had ripped through it with his bare hands as easily as if it was a piece of Saran wrap.

As they reached the car, Edward opened the passenger door for her, as always. It had surprised her the first time he'd done it, but now she just saw it as another one of the odd, old-fashioned mannerisms that made Edward, Edward. Just like when he helped her on with her coat. If they arrived to class together, or if she arrived after him, he held her chair out for her. It was just who Edward was, and if she was perfectly honest, she really liked it. She'd had no idea there were still guys out there who actually did those things.

Bella sat in the front with Edward, and Alice sat in the back. Alice rolled her eyes but smiled at Bella as she got in the car. "I still think you should've worn the black sweater," she pouted.

Bella looked down at the pale green sweater she wore and thought again of her Edward. He'd been sick to death of the color black after his father had died and had said that he was going to put in his will that no one was allowed to wear black for him. It had just been a joke to vent some of the strain he'd been under at the time, but Bella hadn't worn black once since he'd died. "I don't like black."

"Oh, but with your fair skin and your dark hair and eyes—"

Edward cut his sister off, "I think the green is very becoming."

It was ridiculous how such a minor thing as Edward liking the color of her sweater made Bella feel, but she could feel her face heat up, and she knew she was blushing.

Alice mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, "Yeah, you would," and Bella felt her blush spread down her neck.

Edward cleared his throat uncomfortably and sat as rigid as a statue behind the wheel.

It was cold and damp outside, but the heater was on high, making the car too warm, and Bella asked, "Would anyone mind if I cracked the window a little?"

"Of course not, go right ahead," Alice responded.

Edward also put his window down a couple inches, and out of the corner of her eye, Bella saw him tilt his face toward the cool breeze coming in the car.

_If he was too warm, why did he have the heat on so high? _

Bella saw Edward's shoulders relax as he inhaled the cool air deeply and swallowed several times. She hated that Alice had embarrassed him, and she wanted to change the subject. "You never said how your camping trip was."

It was Alice who answered, "Oh, it was fine. You know, the normal. Communing with nature. Enjoying the wildlife."

Edward choked. Bella looked at him, but he kept his eyes on the road. "Are you OK?" she asked.

Again, it was Alice who answered. "Oh, he's fine. Don't worry about him. Inside joke."

Bella looked back at Alice in the backseat. "What time did you get back yesterday?"

"Not 'til late. Almost midnight."

All too soon they pulled up in front of the school, and Alice floated off toward her homeroom with one last smile to Bella and one last smirk to her brother.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Bella kept her eyes on the ground as they walked toward her homeroom together. Edward was carrying her books, and they stopped in front of her locker just outside her homeroom for her to exchange them for the ones she would need before lunch. As he glanced at her, Edward could see that something was bothering her, and he again cursed fate for closing to him the one mind that really mattered.

He couldn't believe Alice had made that comment in the car. What had she been thinking? _Enjoying the wildlife._ Why didn't she just tell his mate he'd stalked a mountain lion before wrestling it to the ground, ripping its throat out, and draining it dry? It was bad enough all the kids at school kept telling Bella how weird their family was, but he also had her friends on the reservation trying to turn her against them. Now, Alice was making cryptic jokes about their hunting trip.

Was that what Bella was thinking about? Was she trying to figure out what Alice had meant? What the _inside joke _could be? Or had something happened on the fishing trip with Fido yesterday?

At first, Edward had been afraid she had fallen then, but he was sure she was telling him the truth about how she'd hurt her shoulder. This never knowing what she was thinking was going to drive him around the bend. Was she putting all the clues he'd let slip and that Alice had thrown at her together? Was she about to figure out the truth and go running and screaming away from him forever?

Or was she worried about normal human teenage girl things? _Normal human… Oh. Of course. _Edward mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Alice was right about one thing, he did always jump to the worst conclusion possible.

"Hey, you're not still nervous about English class are you?"

"Ugh, I _wasn't,_ but I am _now_. Thanks ever so much for reminding me."

Damn, he was wrong again. It frustrated him to no end that even with as well as he felt he was getting to know his mate, he never seemed to be able to know what was bothering her. Any time Esme was upset about something, Carlisle always knew what it was, and it was the same between Jasper and Alice and Emmett and Rosalie. But he never knew what was upsetting Bella.

He badly wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he didn't want to make her feel obliged to confide in him. He wanted her to _want_ to confide in him.

His patience was rewarded when she explained, but what she said only made Edward feel worse.

His Bella kept her eyes down and fidgeted with the combination lock on her locker as she spoke. "It's just…. I was just… I was just thinking about someone I used to know."

Edward didn't need to be able to read her mind to know what, or rather whom, she was thinking about. The sorrow and loss in her voice was unmistakable. She was thinking about him—human him. It was nearly a year ago for her that they had started writing to each other while he was still human, but he didn't know the exact date. She didn't date her letters, but at one point he must've come out and asked her and she'd told him the date was February 25, 2009. But that was in her fifth letter. Today was February 15th. The day after Valentine's Day.

Human holidays meant very little to them, but that didn't mean he was happy about his mate spending Valentine's Day with Fido, even if it was a fishing trip with both their fathers.

"Someone you were close to?" he asked.

She nodded her head quietly without looking up. For all he knew, today could be one year to the day since she found his letter and wrote to him for the first time.

The bell rang, telling them they had to be in their homerooms in two minutes, and it seemed to pull her back to the present. She shook off the sadness from a moment ago like it was something she was well practiced at, and she looked up to him and smiled, but it was forced and didn't reach her eyes. Not only was it his fault his beautiful Bella was hurting, but she felt she had to hide it from him. The last thing in the world he wanted to do at that moment was leave her, but he had to. Keeping up appearances was crucial, and appearances called for him to be in his own homeroom. He would see her again soon, but it would be twenty-five minutes until then. For someone who had existed for nearly a century and could exist for millennia, the prospect of twenty-five minutes seemed like forever.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Edward slowly raised his hand and gently traced her jaw with his fingertips. He heard her breath catch in her throat as her eyes widened, and he wondered not for the first time if she could feel the electric charge between them that he always felt whenever they touched.

"Bella, promise me something." She didn't speak, but she licked her lips and swallowed. Her eyes stayed on his. "Don't ever think you have to pretend to be happy when you're not. Don't pretend to be anything, not for anyone, but especially not for me."

Bella's eyes widened for a moment before she stepped close enough to him to put her hand on his arm and rest her forehead against his chest. After the countless minds he'd heard over the decades, Edward had thought he knew what desire felt like before that moment, but good Godhe'd been wrong. Bella's body was so close to his that he could feel the heat radiating off of her all throughout his body.

He'd also thought he could handle just being friends with her, but he'd been wrong about that too. Slowly, carefully, terrified of hurting her if he moved too quickly or held her too tightly, Edward wrapped his arms loosely around his Bella. It took more restraint than he knew he possessed to not carry her off right then and there. His mouth filled with venom, and every cell of his body and every instinct he had was screaming at him that his mate was finally in his arms and he should _do something_ about that, _do something _to keep her there.

Edward's body reacted to his mate's as any seventeen-year-old boy's body would react to the girl he loved. The burning he felt for Bella had nothing to do with her blood and was nowhere near his throat.

After not nearly long enough, she stepped back and looked everywhere but at him. A strand of hair had fallen forward into her face and, desperate to maintain contact with her for as long as possible, Edward gently tucked it behind her ear. His Bella looked up at him and smiled timidly but genuinely before turning to enter her homeroom.

He could hear Alice's voice in his mind. _So, how's all that "just friends" nonsense goin' for ya? _The little pixie was positively gleeful.

Edward ignored his sister. It took every ounce of control he had to turn and walk away when all he wanted to do was knock the door down, grab his mate, and run away with her. He could not believe what had just happened. Once he'd forced himself to step away from the door, he checked the thoughts of the humans in the building. He was alone in the hall but he needed to make sure he stayed that way. He had only seconds to make it to his own homeroom on time, and he needed to hurry down the hall at his natural pace before he had a chance to change his mind.

Edward entered his homeroom just as the bell rang and quietly took his seat in the back of the classroom. He sat and stared at his hands, replaying what had just happened over and over again in his mind. After the first time she'd touched his forehead, that day in the hallway after lunch, his Bella never even flinched at his icy, stony skin anytime they touched. Not that they touched often, unfortunately, but every time her hand casually grazed his own, or she deliberately touched his arm, Edward felt a phantom pang in his chest, as if his long-dead heart still beat. He could still feel the warmth from her skin lingering on his own, and he swallowed another mouth full of venom.

More than ever, his body wanted to claim his mate whether that was what his heart and mind wanted or not, and Edward was afraid his heart was switching sides and his mind was going to have to stand alone.

His pocket locket with the three locks of hair was in Edward's jeans pocket. He'd run the long lock of his Bella's hair through his fingers hundreds of times, but this was the first time he'd touched her hair other than that. Raising his hand to pretend to scratch the side of his nose, he smelled her strawberry-scented shampoo in addition to her own natural scent.

Her scent... It still made him burn but in entirely different ways, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. _That_ was certainly something that had never been a problem for him before now no matter how many girls, both human and vampire, he'd heard fantasize about him. _That_ just hadn't ever been part of his life until now. He hadn't thought it ever wouldbe part of his life until now. He felt that some part of him remembered his Bella—remembered that he'd already found his mate, even if his mind didn't—and wouldn't allow him to settle for any other girl.

Edward looked back to his hands, and his eyes traveled up his arms. He'd wrapped his arms around Bella; he'd actually held her in his arms.

_And I didn't hurt her. _

Edward knew he must have had a ridiculous smile on his face right now, but he couldn't have cared less—he'd touched his Bella's face and put his arms around her and tucked her hair behind her ear. _And I didn't hurt her_. _She even took the first step. She stepped up to me and leaned against me. She isn't afraid of me. She isn't naturally repulsed by me. She really isn't._ For the first time, Edward let himself feel real hope. _Can I really do this? Can we really be more than just friends? Could she ever want that? _

He ran his hand through his hair. His Bella still called his name in her sleep, but he knew it was Edward Masen she was dreaming of, not Edward Cullen. But it was Edward Cullen she had turned to five minutes ago when she'd been hurting. Could she ever really care for Edward Cullen as she cared for Edward Masen? Edward ran his hand roughly over his face and through his hair. He needed to see her again. Was she still upset? When Bella had smiled at him that second time, it had been a real smile. There had also been something else in her smile, in her eyes. He'd seen it before when she'd looked at him, but he'd been afraid to let himself hope. That she was feeling better, that she wasn't still hurting for someone who had as good as died over ninety years ago, that was all he'd let himself hope for.

Until now.

Jessica Stanley was in Bella's homeroom, but Edward preferred to avoid her mind if at all possible. Ben Chaney was in her homeroom too, and Edward listened in to his thoughts to see if he could get a glimpse of Bella, but he was busy trying to finish the algebra homework he'd forgotten last night and wasn't paying any attention to anything else.

Edward drifted from mind to mind and could see that Jessica was sitting next to Bella and leaning over toward her, clearly excited, but she was whispering too quietly for anyone else to hear. Edward cringed; an excited Jessica was never a good thing. Jessica was the biggest gossip in the school and never cared whether the story she was passing around was true. There was no way around it, he realized. He was going to have to listen to whatever the silly little fool was thinking.

_What could he _possibly _see in her? She's so… plain… and she has _no _body." _Jessica's eyes drifted down to her own chest, and she mentally smirked. _Half the guys in school following her around like lost puppy dogs—she can't be that blind. She must be playing with them, waiting to see if she can land Edward, or if she'll have to settle. Like she'd ever stand a chance with Edward Cullen. _

Edward was glad he didn't have anything in his hands because he'd have shredded it.

Jessica said, "Didn't look like 'nothing' from where I sat."

Edward was only just able to stay in his seat. Jessica was remembering the two of them in the hall together as his Bella had leaned against him and he'd put his arms around her. Knowing what his mate looked like in his arms on top of knowing what she felt like as he held her against him was doing nothing to help the almost painful tightness in his jeans, and he shifted in his seat again.

Bella kept her eyes on her open book, just barely tilting her head toward the other girl. She looked like someone clearly not interested in talking about something, but Jessica wasn't known for picking up hints that her nosiness wasn't appreciated.

"I already told you, Jess. We're just friends."

"Friends, mhmm. _None_ of the Cullens have ever been friends with _anyone_ before. Now Edward's driving you to school and walking you to class." Jessica's chin was resting on her palm and her other hand was twirling her hair. Her legs were crossed and her foot was bouncing. She was smiling playfully and looked the perfect picture of one friend innocently teasing another; only her thoughts gave her away.

"Edward _and_ _Alice_ drive me to school," Bella corrected.

"He even carries your books."

"He carried my books because I hurt my shoulder yesterday."

"I heard he actually pulls your chair out for you. I don't know _any_ guys who do that."

Edward would love to explain to Jessica all the myriad differences between herself and Bella, and exactly why Bella was treated as a lady and she wasn't.

"And it wasn't _Alice_ with her arms around you. Looked a little more friendly than 'just friends' to me. I think he likes you, Bella." _Though I really can't see why._

"And I like him, too. _As a friend. _Just like I like Alice. And Jasper and Emmett. As Friends. Just like I like Mike and Tyler and Eric and Ben. As Friends. Just as friends. Nothing more."

Edward sat perfectly still in his chair. Bella had just lied to Jessica. Humans were rotten liars; all the telltale signs were easily seen. Of course, he and his family could pick up on even the slightest changes in their physiology, but even a human could easily pick up the signs if they knew what to look for and paid attention. When Bella told Jessica she liked him as a friend and nothing more, she'd lied. What exactly did that mean? Did she like him as more than a friend? Did she not like him as even a friend? Edward laced his fingers together and dropped his forehead against them, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. Carlisle had told him back in August that it wasn't possible for a vampire to go insane, but now Edward wasn't so sure about that. If anything could drive him insane, not knowing how Bella felt about him would do it.

He replayed Bella's words in his mind. "_And I like him, too. _As a friend. _Just like I like Alice. And Jasper and Emmett. As Friends. Just like I like Mike and Tyler and Eric and Ben. As Friends. Just as friends. Nothing more." _Normally, when Bella talked to Jessica her answers were short and terse, but this time she had gone on and on. She'd elaborated too much. Her cheeks had turned pink, just slightly, but it was Bella had said, _as a friend, _she'd said it defensively. She'd emphasized it too much, and she'd turned her body slightly away from Jessica and picked up her book like it was a shield.

"I don't know Jess. Maybe h— they just don't like being talked about behind their backs."

_What did I miss? What did I miss?_ Edward had been so focused on worrying whether Bella liked him and just how much that he'd missed what Jessica had said next. He didn't know what Jessica had said, but it had apparently been more than Bella was willing to put up with and his little kitten's claws had come out swinging. His mate had stuck up for him and his family yet again.

The bell rang, and Bella got up with her books before Jessica could recover and say anything else.

Edward hadn't gone to his own locker before homeroom, but that wouldn't matter. He wouldn't need his book for English, as they were starting public speaking today, and he could get what he needed for the rest of his morning afterward. None of his teachers would care if a Perfect Cullen came to class without his books anyway. Besides, he and his brothers and sisters knew the subject matter better than the teachers. He hurried down the hall as quickly as he could without attracting more attention than normal and met Bella just a few steps out of her homeroom. She was even more upset now—but whereas before she was hurting, now she was angry.

Edward remembered what she'd said to Jessica, "_Maybe h— they just don't like being talked about behind their backs_." She had started to say 'he' and changed to 'they'. She was angry on _his _behalf.

As he took her books from her, her words surprised him. "Do you have an old pair of jeans at home you don't wear anymore?"

"Um, I suppose. Why?"

"Good. Give them to Jessica."

Edward was lost. What the hellhad he missed? "Why in Heaven's name would I give her a pair of old jeans?"

"That girl lives to get in your pants. That'd be her only chance."

Emmett, Jasper, and Rosalie, who were a floor above them and had heard what she'd said, were falling over themselves laughing, even Rosalie. Edward could see the rest of the kids in the hallway giving them a wide berth; their classmates were not accustomed to seeing the normally reserved Cullen family dissolve into sudden fits of laughter for no apparent reason.

Edward was too stunned to laugh and stood frozen in place. Bella misinterpreted his silence and began to apologize, afraid she'd offended or insulted him.

"No, don't apologize," he insisted. "I'm just surprised."

"You can't possibly be surprised. She might as well throw herself down naked in front of you she's so blatant about it."

Bella stormed down the hall toward their English class. Edward knew he probably shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but he was. His Bella was even more adorable when she was angry, and the reason was she was angry because some other girl was interested in him. Did that mean _she_ was interested in him? He knew he shouldn't want that, but God forgive him, he did; he couldn't help himself. He was torn between knowing that wanting her to feel for him what he felt for her was wrong and selfish and knowing that no matter how much he denied it to his family and to himself, he wanted it anyway.

Edward caught up to her in two strides. "No, I don't mean that." He continued laughing, "I just…. I can't believe you said that. Such language, Miss Swan." He placed his hand over his heart over dramatically. "I'm shocked. Does your father know you talk like that?"

The corner of Bella's mouth twitched and she blushed. "I heard it in a movie once."

Edward loved her blush. The first time he saw her blush it had caught him off guard how much it intensified her scent. His throat had burned and his mouth had filled with venom in response, but it was only a reflexive physical reaction. The monster inside him never stirred; believing he would be too late to save her from the bear in August had silenced it permanently.

They climbed the flight of stairs quietly laughing together. When they entered their classroom they took their seats, and Edward pulled her chair out for her as usual. Bella's smile faded, and she bit her lip and looked down at her hands. He thought she might be getting nervous about speaking in front of the class, but she surprised him again. "She just…. I don't like the way she talks about you. Like you're, I don't know, like you're some kind of _goal_ she's set for herself. It's like she's got a 'to do list,' and you're on it with a little check box next to your name."

Edward couldn't keep the smile off his face. His Bella was indignant on his behalf.

Mike Newton entered the classroom and took his seat on the other side of the room; he subtly looked over at Bella, and his mind filled with all of his daydreams about her, causing Edward to grind his teeth. He had to suppress the growl that wanted to tear from his throat with one word: _Mine_.

Bella noticed the sudden change in his expression and laid her hand on his arm. Edward was amazed. She was touching him voluntarily. Again. She was human, and he was a vampire; every instinct she had should be screaming at her to get away from him, yet she was voluntarily touching him _again_ and even leaning in toward him. That had to mean something. Didn't it?

"Everything OK?" she asked.

Edward glanced at Mike briefly and caught his eye, causing the other boy to flinch and look away quickly. "I don't like it when someone thinks about you like that either."

His Bella laughed a little but it was uncomfortable. She tucked that same errant strand of hair behind her ear and looked down as she spoke very quietly. A human would never have been able to hear her, but Edward heard her clearly. "Never really been a problem," his Bella mumbled. Could she honestly not realize that pretty much every guy in the school had noticed her and that several would've already asked her out had they not been intimidated away by her friendship with him and his family?

"You really don't see yourself clearly at all, do you? You're better than any girl here," Edward stated plainly. In his opinion, she was better than any girl anywhere, and although he couldn't tell her that, he hoped she could hear it in his voice.

She didn't say anything for a several moments, but it was obvious his mate didn't see herself the way others did, even if they could only see a small glimpse of just how truly remarkable she was. It always made his Bella uncomfortable when he complimented her, so Edward wasn't surprised when she changed the subject, asking, "What are you doing for your reading? You never did tell me."

"A poem."

The teacher entered the room, and Edward could hear Bella's breathing and heart rate increase.

"You are going to do just fine," he reassured her.

"Easy for you to say."

"Bella, you've already read it in front of people at your mother's wedding and you did just fine. Try to forget there is anyone else in the room. There's just you and me. There's no one else."

A pained look crossed her face so quickly a human might've missed it, but when the teacher asked for volunteers Bella raised her hand with a confidence that surprised him. Everything about her surprised him. In response to his unasked questions she said, "Why put off the inevitable? Waiting will only make it worse. It's better to get it over with fast. Like pulling off a Band-Aid." Bella picked up the page the sonnet she would read aloud was printed on, rose, and walked to the front of the room with an apparent confidence that her still elevated heart rate showed she did not feel.

Normally, Edward had to make a point of constantly fidgeting in his seat like a human would—

shift his body slightly, stretch his arms or legs, pretend to scratch an itch, or rub his eyes. It was natural for his kind to remain motionless; he could stand perfectly still for days if he needed to. Sitting, standing, or lying down—it made no difference to him; he was equally comfortable in any position and never grew physically tired. But right now he was so anxious he couldn't have sat still if his life had depended upon it. The more time he spent with Bella, the more it felt like the human traits he normally had to fake were becoming more and more natural.

In one of her letters, Bella had mentioned that he had used the sonnet she was about to read to describe Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth in Jane Austen's _Persuasion_. She'd told him she had been thinking about him when she'd decided that was what she would read at her mother's wedding. Had she meant she had been thinking about how he'd used it to describe two people in love, or had she meant a sonnet about two people in love had made her think of him?

Edward watched as she stood behind the podium and set her paper down. He had been waiting anxiously for this moment ever since she had told him what she had chosen to read. To hear those words in his Bella's voice…. Their love had not altered when it alteration found, had not bent with the remover to remove. Even believing him to be dead, she'd continued to love him. Through his decades of existence, he'd remained faithful to her, even without realizing that was what he'd been doing, just like the fictional Captain Wentworth he'd once used those very words to describe. There was no question his Bella was his ever fixed mark. She was his guiding star.

Was she thinking about him as she prepared to read those words out loud? And if she was, which him was she thinking about? Was she still in love only with Edward Masen? Or was Jasper right? Was Alice right? Was she falling in love with him as Edward Cullen as well? Dare he hope?

_Should_ he hope?

His Bella took a deep breath and looked around the room. Edward thought she was deliberately trying _not_ to look at him, but her eyes were drawn to him whether she wanted them to be or not. Similarly, he knew he couldn't look away from her if he tried. Did her eyes continually returning to him mean even if she _was_ trying to, she couldn't look away from him either?

She cleared her throat and spoke. He could hear the tremor in her voice, though the human teacher could not. "I am going to read Shakespeare's Sonnet 116." She fidgeted briefly with her paper and cleared her throat before she began.

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.

Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,  
>Or bends with the remover to remove:<br>Oh no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
>That looks on tempests and is never shaken;<br>It is the star to every wandering bark,  
>Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.<br>Love's not Time's fool,

Though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come:  
>Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,<br>But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
>If this be error and upon me proved,<br>I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Bella exhaled slowly, grateful it was over. The teacher asked her a few questions about her reading, and she mechanically gave him generic answers. All she wanted to do was go sit down—

it was none of anyone's business why she'd chosen that sonnet or what it meant to her— and finally, the teacher told her she could sit down and called on the next victim.

Walking back to her desk, Bella realized that sitting back down had problems of its own. She sat next to Edward, and when she looked at him, he had a glorious smile on his face, and his golden eyes were glued to her. She took her seat and looked down at her desk. There was so much raw emotion in Edward's eyes it was hard to look at him, but it was just as hard to look away, and no matter how hard she'd tried while she'd been in front of the class, her eyes had had a mind of their own and had kept returning to him.

"Bella…. That was…. You were…."

"I felt silly."

"Believe me. You were _anything_ but silly. You were magnificent. You're… so beautiful."

Bella could feel herself blush and kept her eyes down. "You impress far too easily."

Even with her eyes downcast, she could see him shake his head, but she only just heard his whispered response. "No, believe me, I don't."

She blushed deeper and worried a little at how much his words meant to her. She'd had to admit to herself that she was definitely falling hard and fast for her friend, and it honestly scared her. If Edward ever found out, it could make everything incredibly awkward. Their friendship meant so much to her, and she couldn't stand the thought that she could lose it, that she could lose him.

Six more kids gave their readings before the teacher called on Edward to be the last one for the day. She had never seen him nervous before; it seemed to be totally uncharacteristic of him, but he unquestionably was. Bella felt guilty suddenly. She'd been so nervous for herself that she'd never considered Edward might be nervous as well. He gave her a slight smile when she wished him luck as he stood. Edward had the poem he would read on a folded slip of paper in his hand, and he set it, still folded, on the podium in front of him. He hesitated momentarily before his eyes darted to her, and she smiled at him encouragingly. He cleared his throat and began. "I'm… I'm going to read a poem that was given to me by my dearest friend after my father died."

Edward kept his eyes down, focused on the folded slip of paper on the podium but didn't begin. Never before in the short time she'd known him had he ever mentioned his biological family, and she'd never seen him look as vulnerable as he did right now. Bella wished there was something she could do to help him, and she whispered words of encouragement, even though she knew he wouldn't be able to hear her.

Edward looked over at her, and again, she saw so much emotion in his eyes it was hard to not look away, but at the same time, she couldn't look away. Edward was opening himself up like she didn't think he ever had before, and it was obviously incredibly difficult for him. He bit his bottom lip and rubbed the back of his neck.

The teacher spoke, "Edward, you may have more time to prepare if you would rather read something else."

"No. Thank you, Mr. Mason." He cleared his throat and began, and with every word he spoke, Bella felt her heart thud painfully in her chest, and her vision blurred with tears.

_Do not stand at my grave and weep,_

_I am not there, I do not sleep._

_I am in a thousand winds that blow,_

_I am the softly falling snow._

_I am the gentle showers of rain,_

_I am the fields of ripening grain._

_I am in the morning hush,_

_I am in the graceful rush_

_Of beautiful birds in circling flight,_

_I am the starshine of the night._

_I am in the flowers that bloom,_

_I am in a quiet room._

_I am in the birds that sing,_

_I am in each lovely thing._

_Do not stand at my grave and cry,_

_I am not there. I did not die._

Tears spilled down Bella's cheeks, and a painful lump had formed in her throat. It was incredible. It was just too much. Edward had just read the very poem that she had sent to her Edward after his father died, and it had been given to him under the same circumstances, by a close friend after the death of his father.

As Edward returned to his seat, she ducked her head and wiped her tears away. Judging by the other sniffles she heard around her, she was not the only one moved to tears by Edward's reading, and she was glad for that. Hopefully he wouldn't see her tears as anything more than the others. That reading had to have been very difficult for him, and the last thing in the world she wanted was to dump her own baggage on him.

Bella hoped she'd wiped away her tears subtly enough that he would not have noticed, but Edward pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket the moment he sat down. He looked grief stricken. "Bella, I'm so sorry. The last thing I would ever want is to make you cry."

She took the handkerchief from him and wiped her eyes again as the bell rang for the end of class. She laughed sadly. "It's not your fault. I cry at the drop of a hat." Edward looked pained, like he blamed himself for making her cry. Bella squeezed his hand. "Really, I'm fine. It was just.…" Bella's voice trailed off as she remembered her Edward's letters to her telling her how much those same words meant to him after his father's death. She'd told him she wished she could've been there to hold his hand. "I'm just really glad you had someone there for you when your father died." she said.

Was this an opening she wondered? Would she now be able to ask him about his biological family and how he had come to be adopted by the Cullens?

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Alice said there will be a surprise quiz in history today."

Apparently not. Not at this moment anyway. He wasn't ready. "Oh, crap," she responded.

"Thought that'd make your day." They walked out of the class together but instead of handing her her books and turning toward his second period class he continued down the hall with her.

"Where are you going? Your next class is the other way."

"I'm walking you to class. You can't carry books today with a sore shoulder."

"Edward, really, give me my books. You're going to be late."

"No I won't."

"Your next class is on the other side of the building."

"I walk fast."

Bella had learned that it was useless to argue with either Edward or Alice, and she gave up. "OK. We're here. Now give me my books and hurry up."

"You worry too much. I promise I won't be late."

"Would you just go already?"

Edward was grinning as he turned away but only took a few steps before he turned back around. She hadn't entered the classroom yet; rather, she was standing watching him walk away. And he'd just caught her watching. His grin spread. "Oh, and Bella, Emmett said he'll meet you to walk with you to your next class and carry your books."

Bella's mouth fell open, but she was unable to speak. Walking down the hall backwards, Edward laughed at her and jerked his head toward her class. "Better hurry up. Wouldn't want you to be late."

Her embarrassment at being caught watching him walk away forgotten, Bella turned, and grumbling under breath in indignation, she entered the classroom and slammed her books down on the desk as she took her seat, causing her notebook to slide off the small pile of books and onto the floor. She didn't realize until she reached for it that she still had Edward's handkerchief in her hand, and she wondered what she should do with it. She'd only wiped her eyes with it. Was it OK to just give it back to him, or should she wash it first? It really was kind of romantic; in old movies, the man always gave the woman his handkerchief when she cried. Who knew boys today even still carried handkerchiefs?

She'd had it balled up in her fist, and she smoothed it out. To make it even more romantic, the handkerchief was embroidered in royal blue thread with his initials: E.A.M.C.

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Notes:

Bella's comment to Edward about giving Jessica a pair of his jeans so she could get in his pants is from a movie. I believe it was a line by Julia Roberts, and I could swear it was from Erin Brockovich, but I couldn't find it online to be sure.

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The clues to Edward's true identity are piling up! I won't keep you all waiting too much longer, the next few chapters move it along. And then all hell breaks loose.

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Bella's very first class at Forks High School is English. It's on page 15 of my copy of Twilight. Her teacher's name really is Mr. Mason.


	30. Chapter 30

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"This really IS NOT necessary," Bella insisted emphatically.

"Oh, but it is. Edward's orders," Jasper responded, amused.

"I am _so_ going to kill him."

"Now, now. Please don't kill him. Our mother is really very fond of him; it would break her heart. And besides, you have no ideahow hard it can be to dispose of a body. Then you've got to clean up the crime scene and come up with an alibi and deal with witnesses…. It's a hassle. Not worth it."

Bella gave both Jasper and Alice her worst glare, but they merely laughed at her.

"Just torture him a bit; it's much easier. And besides, you can do it over and over. As much as you might enjoy it, you can only kill him once," Jasper suggested.

Bella glanced across the cafeteria to where Edward was sitting with Emmett and Rosalie. She didn't know why, but Edward was banging his head off the table, while Emmett laughed riotously and Rosalie looked annoyed.

"Here we are, safely escorted to your lunch table." Jasper bowed deeply to Bella—his Southern accent, normally only a faint twang, was now much more pronounced, and the image of Rhett Butler suddenly appeared in her mind—before bowing his head to the other girls at the table. "Ladies."

Jessica, Angela, and the rest of the girls at the table stared speechlessly at him as Bella sat down. He held his arm out to Alice, and she took it as they walked toward their table. They could've been actors in an old time black and white movie.

"I _cannot_ believe him!" Bella cried with indignation, immune to the spell Jasper had cast over the others. She stood back up and turned to walk toward the line of students waiting to buy lunch. She took three steps still mumbling about killing Edward before she realized she was alone. Looking back at her lunch table, Bella saw that all of her friends, both the girls _and the boys_, were motionless and still staring after Jasper and Alice. "Oh, will you all knock it off!"

Angela was the first one to snap out of the trance they all seemed to be under. Jessica and a girl named Lauren started giggling together and whispering fervently as they looked toward the table where Edward sat with his family.

"Isn't _anyone_ eating today?" Bella asked. This was really too bizarre. Her friends were acting like Jasper was a celebrity instead of just another one of their classmates. They were all _dazzled _because he'd spoken to them.

Some of her friends joined her in line while others pulled their lunches out of bags. Once they'd reached the front of the line and paid for their lunches, Mike took her tray.

"Oh, come on! Not you too!" It was no good arguing; he insisted on carrying her tray for her.

After lunch, Bella threw her empty milk carton and sandwich wrapper away, but when she returned to her table, Edward was standing there already holding her books and looking very sheepishly at her.

"Ready for bio, partner?" he asked timidly.

Bella walked passed him without saying a word.

When they got to class, she sat down before he could pull her chair out for her. She heard him hesitate before sitting down next to her, and she looked away. A moment later he asked her if she thought she'd done well on the pop quiz in history, but she ignored him.

Halfway through class, when the teacher turned his back to them to write on the blackboard, Edward slid a note in front of her.

_I am sorry, Bella. Please forgive me. I cannot bear to have you angry with me. _

Exasperated, Bella whispered, "Edward, I…." She'd turned to tell him yet again that she only had a sore shoulder and that she was not an invalid, but the hurt look on his face stopped her. Bella felt terrible. She wasn't actually angry with him, just annoyed, but her cold shoulder had really hurt him. She wrote back quickly.

_No, I'm sorry. I overreacted. You were just trying to be nice, and I had to go and make a big deal out of it. _

_I'm the one who overreacted. You told me your arm was OK. I should have listened to you. I'm sorry. _

Bella read his note and smiled. _You're forgiven on one condition. _

_Anything. Name it. _

_What does A. M. stand for? _

The teacher finished his writing and turned back to them, so it was a few minutes before Edward slid his answer to her. _Ante Meridiem, it means 'before midday.' What an odd condition to set to earn your forgiveness. Why would you want to know? _

_Your full name is Edward Ante Meridiem Cullen? You poor boy. _

She heard a muffled laugh next to her as Edward read her words.

_You didn't specify which A. M. you meant. _

_Well, now I have._

_Why do you want to know?_

_You're my friend, and I'm curious._

_Ever heard what they say about curiosity?_

_If I were a cat, I'd worry._

_Why risk it?_

_Edward A. M. Cullen, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were trying to not answer me._

_What makes you say that? _

_Is it horrible? Aloysius Myron?_

Another laugh. _No._

_Alvin Marmaduke?_

_No._

_Abernethy Melvin?_

_No. For Pete's sake, Bella, where are you getting these names? I'm beginning to fear for your future children._

_Agamemnon Mortimer?_

_Yes, that's it. I admit it. My full name is Edward Agamemnon Mortimer Cullen._

_Oh, I can't wait to tell everyone. From now on I'm calling you Aggie._

_I really have to keep you and Emmett away from each other._

_Actually, torturing you was all Jasper's idea._

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_Andrew Mitchell? Allen Mark? Alexander Matthew? Anthony…. _

Bella was still wondering what the initials A. M. stood for in Edward's name, but her wonderings were abruptly cut off when she thought of the name Anthony.

_Edward Anthony Masen_

She took a deep breath and stood; she crossed her room and looked out her window. Pushing the curtains aside, she exhaled slowly. It really was beautiful here. She'd never noticed it when she'd come here as a child, but it really was. Maybe she'd just been too young to appreciate it then.

After school, the sky had cleared—although only slightly—and there were scattered patches of blue sky. Of course, the sun was nowhere near those blue patches, and they were few and far between, but still…. They were there. Bella figured they'd had a good two months' worth of sun yesterday, so sunless blue patches were as good as they were likely to get for a while.

She was feeling restless. She'd been sitting on her bed and holding Edward's initialed handkerchief since she'd come home from school over an hour ago. She was supposed to be doing homework, but she hadn't touched a book yet. The image of Emma Thompson as Elinor Dashwood in _Sense and Sensibility_ holding Edward Ferris' handkerchief appeared in her head, and she groaned. She was in deep. How had this happened to her again without her even noticing? Weren't you supposed to _know_ when you fell in love with someone? Shouldn't it be like running head first into a brick wall? Unmistakable? Something you knew immediately? But here she was again, in the middle before she knew she'd begun.

Thinking of those words—the words her Edward had used to describe his love for her—knocked the air out of her as much as if she'd been physically hit, and Bella doubled over, reaching out blindly for something to hold on to in order to keep from falling to the ground. How could she have let this happen? Her Edward had suffered with that Goddamned flu and died and here she was ready to just move on and replace him with someone else.

Her room was very small, and it felt like the walls were closing in on her. She had to get out of the house. There was no air; she needed air. She ran out of her room and down the stairs. There was a trail through the woods behind her house that she had explored a little, and that was where she was going. It was perfect. It was outside so there'd be air. She'd be able to breathe, but she'd be hidden, concealed, and there was just something about the trees themselves that soothed her.

If she followed that trail long enough, she'd be able to scream and yell and cry as loudly as she wanted if she chose to, and no one would be able to hear her. No one would interrupt her.

Tanya was in the living room curled up on the couch reading a book when she ran down the steps, and she called after Bella asking what was wrong, but Bella didn't stop.

She ran out the back door, across the yard, and into the trees. She followed the path, running until her legs burned. If she'd been thinking clearly, she would have been very pleased with herself that she hadn't tripped once, but in her overwrought frame of mind it had never occurred to her.

Once she stopped running, Bella fell to the ground on her hands and knees and started to cry. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and noticed for the first time that she still clutched Edward's handkerchief tightly in her fist. The realization only made her cry harder.

Angry with herself for betraying her Edward, Bella struggled back to her feet and continued down the path, nearly blinded by her tears. She didn't know how deep into the woods she was, but her cell phone rang in her pocket at that moment telling her she couldn't be that deep if she still got reception. She'd been on the phone with her mother one afternoon when she'd gone exploring the trail and had lost the signal.

Ignoring her phone, she continued down the path. Her phone continued to ring in her pocket incessantly, and she continued to ignore it. Why couldn't whoever was calling her just leave her the hell alone?

After she didn't know how long, her phone finally stopped ringing, and soon, Bella was farther down the trail than she had ever gone before, long past the markers she'd picked out among the trees: the oddly shaped knot on a pine tree, the long dead trunk with nothing but stubs and scars where it once had branches and boughs. She stopped and collapsed onto a fallen trunk.

Bella had thought she'd gotten past the worst of the pain over Edward's death, but it felt nearly as fresh as it had the moment crushing realization had nearly suffocated her last June. Admitting to herself that she'd fallen in love with Edward Cullen felt like passing through a door that had slammed shut and locked behind her.

There was no going back.

All the pain she'd battled through for the past several months revived and came pouring out of her in torrents. Bella stomped her feet and pounded the ground with her fists. She cut her hand on a jagged rock and picked it up and threw it as hard as she could.

She screamed both for and at her Edward. For the first time, Bella admitted to herself that she was angry at Edward for getting sick, and she begged him to forgive her. He'd been so careful, just like he promised her he would, and he'd been fine. He'd made it through nearly three weeks of the worst epidemic in history surrounded twelve hours a day almost every day by the sick and dying without catching the disease himself, but when his little cousin had gotten sick, Edward's fear for the child had overridden everything else, and he'd held the little boy on his lap for hours.

Bella believed that had to have been when he'd been infected. That night, those hours. In his concern for his little cousin he'd forgotten to be careful. He'd forgotten how very contagious the flu was and had exposed himself to the epidemic which would spare his cousin but claim him.

Sitting here alone, damp, and cold in this ancient forest where she could sometimes swear that magic was possible, Bella accepted that that was exactly what Edward would have wanted if given the choice. Even if he had known what it would cost him, even if he had known what he would suffer because of it, he would not have left little Charlie alone that night. Bella didn't believe Edward had forgotten just how contagious that flu was; it was more likely that once he saw his little cousin sick, he just didn't care. Edward had loved his family so fiercely, Bella believed that if given the choice, Edward would have sacrificed himself to save his cousin. His mother had made the same choice when Edward himself had fallen sick.

It didn't lessen her pain at all, but it made her stronger, more able to bear it.

Bella wiped her face again, still with Edward Cullen's handkerchief held tightly in her hand. Well, at least she had answered her earlier question to herself of whether she needed to launder it before returning it. It was filthy now. At least she hadn't gotten any blood from her cut hand on it, just dirt that would, hopefully, wash out.

Taking a deep breath, Bella ran her fingers over the royal blue initials again feeling very much like Elinor Dashwood must have. She sighed and put it in her pocket. Elinor Dashwood had gotten her happy ending. That insipid little twit Lucy Steele broke her engagement with Edward Ferris when he lost his money, and they got their happily ever after. But Bella didn't see that happening for her.

She loved two Edwards. The Edward who loved her had been born one hundred or so years too early, and the Edward who was here now was just a friend. A very good friend, but still just a friend. Sometimes she thought he might want more, but she had to accept that that was likely nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.

Bella took his handkerchief out of her pocket again and found a clean spot to wipe her eyes. "'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." She wiped her eyes again and looked up toward the sky. "If you ever come across Alfred, Lord Tennyson up there, do me a favor and punch him in the face."

Her cry had done her good; it had been cathartic. Her eyes were swollen and irritated, her nose ran, and her throat felt scratchy, but she felt somewhat better. Even just her admission that she was mad at Edward for getting sick and breaking his promise to her, as unfair as she knew that was, felt like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Coming to Forks had definitely been the right decision. She didn't know if it was the change of scenery or finding friends to distract her or what it was, but she'd begun feeling steadily better since she'd arrived.

She wiped her eyes one last time and looked around. For the first time, she took real notice of her surroundings and was surprised to see it was getting dark. The sun wouldn't set for a while yet, but between the clouds and the dense trees it was already starting to get dark in the woods, and she started to feel afraid. Just how far into the woods had she come? Glancing at her watch Bella saw that she'd been gone longer than she'd realized.

How long would it take her to get back?

How dark would it be in the woods by then?

Bella stood up and looked up and down the trail, but nothing looked familiar. She tried to swallow her rising panic when she realized she couldn't be sure which way had she come. Which way would take her home and which would take her further into the darkening woods? She honestly had no idea which was which. The ground was too rocky to find her foot prints, and absolutely nothing looked familiar.

Her heart was starting to pound in her chest, and she was breathing hard. In the distance she thought she heard a twig or a branch snap. She wasn't sure she'd really heard anything, and she couldn't see anyone, but the trees were so dense there could easily be someone there she just couldn't see. She was just about to call out for help when she thought she saw a shape move quickly and silently between the trees and her voice died in her throat. Whatever she had just seen, or thought she'd seen, it was enormous, and it was definitely not a person. But what kind of animal could be that big? The thing was as tall as a horse but was built more like a bear.

_A bear? It couldn't possibly be a bear. That thing was huge. At least three times the size of the bear from August. _

She heard another noise from the same direction. There was no mistaking it this time. There was definitely something there, and whatever it was it was huge and moving her way. Bella's heart was pounding so hard now it hurt. Without thinking, she turned and ran—which way she didn't know. She didn't even know if she was still on the trail or if she was running into the woods themselves. She was beyond conscious thought. Instinct had taken over, and that instinct said _run._

Bella couldn't hear whatever was following her, but that didn't mean it wasn't still there. Beyond her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, she couldn't hear a thing.

She couldn't possibly still be on the trail. The trees were too dense and the ground was an obstacle course of rocks and roots.

Bella was terrified. Even if the animal, whatever it was, hadn't follow her, how would she ever find her way back to the trail and back out of the woods before it got dark?

Her foot caught on an exposed root, and she tripped and fell to the ground, scraping her palms and ripping the knee of her jeans. She was sure she'd cut her knee, but she couldn't stop running. She had to get away from whatever that thing was. She tripped again, but this time instead of stumbling and falling to the ground, she lunged forward and crashed into a tree. Just as her head cracked off the trunk, she heard Edward shout her name, his voice holding as much fear as she felt.

Then everything went black.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Edward walked quickly and carefully through the woods with his precious, delicate cargo held safely in his arms—and that stupid mangy mutt at his heels. It was only the combination of first—and foremost—his dire need to get Bella out of the woods and to Carlisle as quickly as possible, and second the very genuine worry he heard in Fido's mind that was keeping Edward from ripping the dog into pieces.

Even he had to admit, the dog did truly care for her. Fido was so worried about how badly Bella might be hurt that he wasn't even protesting Edward's carrying her.

He couldn't run with Bella in his arms like this—he couldn't risk jostling her—but even walking at his natural pace it would only take him a few short minutes to exit the woods. Right now, Alice's vision of Bella as a vampire like himself wasn't looking so very bad. She would be so much less breakable. This was her second close call, and it was two too many.

Edward saw the light ahead that meant the end of the path out of the trees just as Bella started to stir in his arms.

"Shhh. It's alright, dearest. We're almost out," he soothed.

Just as he said the words, he stepped out of the woods and into her back yard. Bella tried to speak, but her words were badly slurred, and what words she did manage were disjointed and confused.

Those were not good signs—those were signs of a concussion.

His Bella made a strangled sound between a whimper and a groan and turned her face close against his chest. Sensitivity to light, another sign of a concussion.

Tanya had heard the impact when Bella's head had hit the tree and, with Edward giving her exact details on Bella's condition as he examined her, had called for an ambulance before Edward had even lifted Bella into his arms. She was now waiting anxiously in the yard. She had spread out a blanket, and Edward gently laid Bella down on it. He asked, "Bella? Dearest? Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

She mumbled something, and Edward thought he heard his name but her words were so slurred he couldn't understand anything else.

"Bella, can you hear me? Listen to my voice. Do you know what year it is? Can you tell me what year it is?"

After a slight hesitation, Bella responded, "Doo dowshib deb"

"Yes, very good, Bella. Very good. 2010. Open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me. Can you do that, angel? Can you open your beautiful brown eyes for me? Open your eyes, Bella."

Not once while he was in medical school could Edward ever have imagined that he would have to use the skills he was learning to diagnose a potential brain injury in his mate.

Edward could hear Fido just inside the trees, out of sight of any humans who might choose that moment to come outside. He was torn between his need to see Bella, to see for himself that she was OK, and his unwillingness to phase from his wolf form in the presence of two vampires. Four of his littermates were on their way and would be here soon, and Edward knew he would to have to deal with the pup in person, so to speak, once they arrived.

Bella's eyes fluttered open, and she squinted against the fading late afternoon light, "Ebdurbd?" She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and trying again, "Edurrd? Duuubd… ap, pinnd?"

"You fell, dearest. You went for a walk in the woods and tripped and fell. You hit your head. But it's OK now. You're safe. I'm here, and you're safe."

The other wolves appeared, and with his littermates standing careful guard just inside the trees, Jacob phased back and came out of the woods. Nearly running at first, he slowed apprehensively as he approached, his worry for Bella warring with his natural revulsion to Edward and Tanya.

Although Tanya hadn't spoken out loud once, her mind was racing with frantic questions. Bella was bleeding from a gash above her temple that extended into her hair, scraped palms, and a cut on her knee, and Tanya was holding her breath.

Edward heard Charlie's thoughts as he neared the house on his drive home from work, completely unaware that Bella had been injured.

"Charlie's coming." He looked at Jacob for the first time as a human. "Fi… Jacob, he will be here soon. He can't see her like this without warning. She has a concussion, of that, I am sure. Her cuts are not deep. They look worse than they are, though she'll need stitches for the gash on her temple. Her neck and spine are uninjured. I ascertained that before I dared move her. Tell him an ambulance is already on the way."

Jacob nodded, and after a long glance at Bella, he left to meet Charlie without argument—a testament to his very genuine respect and affection for the man.

Edward looked at Tanya. "Go. Call Esme; tell her what happened and to meet us at the hospital. Her cuts are superficial, but she is going to need a CT scan. I don't know if… if she is…. I don't know if there is…."

Edward's face contorted with pain, and he could not make himself say the words that Bella could be bleeding into her brain at that very minute. That ambulance couldn't get here fast enough.

Left alone with his injured mate, he gently stroked her hair and spoke to her softly. "Bella…. Dearest… I love you. I'm so sorry."

"I ufff," Bella said and then closed her eyes.

"No. No, no, no, no. Open your eyes, beautiful. Please, Bella. Keep your eyes open."

She opened them again and looked directly at him. Edward noted that her pupils were slightly dilated but were at least the same size. "I uff… you tooo."

As slurred and barely comprehensible as her speech was, _that _Edward had understood perfectly. Her words wrapped around him like her arms had that morning, and they sunk into him like nothing ever had before. Bella had just said she loved him. He'd heard her say that before, in her sleep, but she was talking to Edward Masen then. This time, she was looking at him—at _him. _She was saying it _to_ _him_.

Before Edward had time to savor hearing those words, Bella's eyes drifted from him, and she looked around them. "Weyyw aw wwee?" she asked.

"We're in the backyard, love. The ambulance is on the way. Tanya is on the phone with my mother right now, and your father will be here any moment. Don't worry, my love. You're going to be just fine."

Confusion was written all over her face. She didn't recognize her back yard, but him she did. She reached out for him and he took her hand, daring to raise it to his face and hold it against his cheek. He could feel her warmth radiating through his skin.

"Ebduwrbd, how id I geth hewe?"

"I carried you out of the woods."

"Whaad woowz?"

Edward tried not to panic; it would not help his mate. His Bella had no recollection of what had happened, and her confusion seemed to be getting worse. He asked her the same questions he had when he first laid her down. "Bella, love, do you know who I am? What's my name?"

"Edwuwd."

"Can you tell me what year it is?"

Bella looked at him in confusion. "Diedeedaideed."

Edward dropped his head and felt his already frozen body turn cold.

_1918. She thinks it's 1918._

"Bella, sweetheart…. Love, it's 2010. It's 2010. We're in Forks. Remember? You came to live with your father. We go to school together."

Charlie pulled up in front of the house, and Edward listened as what limited thoughts he was able to hear from his mate's father turned from the mundane to surprised and quickly became concerned as he saw both Jacob and Tanya run up to him with matching looks of dread on their faces. He heard as they both recited exactly what he had told Jacob nearly word for word. He heard Charlie's heart and breathing increase. He heard as Charlie's veiled thoughts turned to sheer panic as he ran around the house. He heard the momentary hesitation as Charlie was overwhelmed by the sight of his daughter lying bleeding in his backyard—with a vampire leaning over her_._

"Bella!"

Charlie ran across the yard and fell to his knees beside them. Seconds of silence passed before Charlie was in control of himself enough to speak.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Edward met Jacob's eyes and was surprised to see the guilt he himself felt reflected in them.

Tanya answered Charlie, "She was very quiet when she came home from school and went straight to her room. She was up there for a while. She must've been upset about something because she ran out of the house. I called after her but she didn't answer me." That used all the air Tanya had.

Bella's cuts were already starting to clot. The blood was no longer fresh, but Tanya still did not trust herself to inhale. Jacob continued with what had happened after Bella had run into the woods, omitting that she'd been crying. He was clearly just as wracked with guilt as Edward himself was.

"It's my fault. I think she saw me. She looked scared, like she all of a sudden didn't know where she was. I was going to phase back and act like I just happened to be there and walk her back out of the woods. But I think she saw me before I could phase back because she took off running, off the path and into the woods." He stopped for a moment and glanced at Edward. "We must've both had the same idea, because he dropped down out of the trees."

"I think she heard me," Edward stated. "When I jumped down, I stepped on a branch on the ground, and it broke. It was so very quiet the noise must've carried, because she looked exactly where I was, but I was crouched too low to the ground for her to see me through the undergrowth."

Edward heard the sirens in the distance. "The ambulance is coming. It'll be here soon."

Tanya wrapped her arm around Charlie, who looked back and forth between the three of them and Bella and then focused on Tanya and Edward. "Are you alright?" he asked.

The question was directed to both of them, but it was clearly intended more for Edward, and he was too ashamed to answer. Tanya nodded her head, answering for both of them.

The paramedics arrived and were professional and thorough as they carefully examined his Bella, questioning her in the same manner Edward had. Her speech was just as slurred, but when they asked her the year, she knew it.

It was very difficult for Edward with his medical degrees to sit back, unable to do anything but watch as the paramedics tended to his mate, and left with nothing he could actively do, worst case scenarios began running in circles in his mind.

_This_, Edward thought to himself,_ must have been what it was like for her during the epidemic, having the medication I needed, but no way to get it to me. _

Although Edward had already examined her spine and neck, determining that both were uninjured, the paramedics put neck and back braces on his Bella before they moved her. He monitored their thoughts the entire time, making sure they knew what they were doing. He walked alongside the stretcher helplessly and watched as they called into the hospital and closed the doors. Once she was loaded into the back of the ambulance, Charlie climbed into the front seat with the driver.

"Love, we will be right behind you," Tanya said before kissing him through the open passenger side window.

_I have a car here. I will drive us. You are in no condition._ When Edward didn't move, she gently pulled on his arm. _Edward, listen to me. She is going to be fine. Carlisle is already waiting and ready for her. _

Edward walked beside her obediently while nightmare situations raged inside his mind. He knew his father was waiting for her. But he also knew there could be swelling inside his Bella's skull. What if she _wasn't_ going to be OK? What if he was forced to watch her deteriorate like Carlisle had been all those years ago when he and his mother—the only two human friends he'd ever had—got sick? He knew from Carlisle's memories how horrible that had been for him, but as much as Carlisle had cared for them both, they had only been his friends. Bella was Edward's mate.

What if…. What if what Alice saw—Bella unresponsive in a hospital bed—what if that wasn't a result of her decompensating and relapsing into the severe depression from last summer? What if _this_ was what caused it? Alice had never seen what had led to her vision, but with Bella's mental state at the time, they'd just assumed the two were related. But what if they were wrong? What if it was the result of a physical injury? With Fido so close, Alice would not have seen the accident, which fit into the scenario, and the more time Edward had spent with his mate and the closer they became, the foggier that vision had become and the stronger the vision of Bella as a vampire became.

Was that because he was going to be forced to ask his father to change her, to save her, instead of allowing her to….

But if his Bella was bleeding into her brain, she could be gone before they even made it to the hospital.

The longer his Bella was away from him, the worse the torment inside Edward became. He was still watching her through the paramedic riding with her, but it wasn't enough; Edward desperately needed to see her with his own eyes.

Medical science still knew so very little about the human brain. As tremendously skilled as he knew Carlisle was, his knowledge was still limited to modern medicine's understanding. During the epidemic that had killed his parents and ended Edward's human life, Carlisle had been just as helpless as the human doctors.

What if Bella's injury went beyond modern medicine's ability to heal, just as the Spanish Flu had in 1918?

"Jacob, you are welcome to ride with us, of course." Tanya's words barely penetrated Edward's frenzied mind.

It was Jacob's unspoken words that powered through the tempest inside him.

_She said she loves him. Of course, she also thinks it's 1980. She's just confused, that's all. As if she could ever love a creature like that. They're not even alive. I hope the so-called _"doctor" _isn't there. I'd feel so much better with a _real _doctor to take care of her. _

Apparently, the unspoken quasi-truce that had existed between them for the past few minutes due to their mutual fear for Bella was over now that she was in the care of the paramedics. He addressed Edward, "Don't get any ideas, leech. The treaty forbids you from _biting_ a human, it doesn't specify killing, it says _biting._" The pack had given them the same reminder after Charlie had admitted to knowing the truth. Fido had heard him tell Bella he loved her and had heard her response. Edward could hear the conviction in Jacob's mind that he would take advantage of the situation and use Bella's injury as an excuse to change her.

Several neighbors had come outside or were looking out their windows by the time the ambulance had arrived. Some had considered approaching Tanya to ask what had happened, whether due to genuine concern or morbid curiosity, but seeing the obvious extreme animosity between himself and Jacob made them quickly change their minds and hurry back inside their homes and pull their curtains shut, though most still peeked from the assumed safety of their homes. Edward could see Jacob and himself in their minds, and they clearly looked like two very angry teenage boys about to come to blows. Which, really, wasn't all that far from the truth. Except for the fact that a fight between the two of them had the potential to level the entire block.

Edward had both of Alice's visions of Bella in his mind: human and lying unresponsive in a hospital bed; vampire and lying in his arms smiling up at him. For the first time he let himself see that in the latter, she was genuinely happy. And wasn't that the only thing he really wanted for her? For her to be happy? In spite of her ruby red eyes, she was happy. If staying human meant she would spend the rest of her life hooked up to machines and IV's…..

_IV's? IV's!_

How stupid could they have been? How many medical degrees did they have between them? How could the answer not have been obvious to them all along? They could change both Charlie and Bella _without_ biting them. But could he really do it? Could he really condemn his beautiful Bella to this existence? He had resented his own mother for making that same choice for him for decades. Would Bella resent him, too? What would she want? Would she want to be with him forever knowing it was his fault, his weakness, his selfishness that had condemned her soul? Would she hate him for it? Would she forgive him if he changed her? Could he forgive himself? Could he forgive himself if he didn't?

He looked first at Tanya before meeting Jacob's hate-filled glare.

_Tanya's and my situations are not the same. Charlie knows. He has the right to make his own decision. Bella doesn't know, I would be taking that right away from her, deciding for her. I don't have that right. What would Charlie want for her? He's her father. He has the right to decide for her. But what if he…. what if we make the wrong decision? _

In the end, Edward was forced to admit there was only one decision he could make, that he could allow another to make. He could not sit back and do nothing as the love of his existence died in front of him. It would be the most selfish thing he could ever do, but he had no choice. He had unknowingly waited for over ninety years for her, and now that he had found her, he couldn't lose her.

"I'm well aware of the wording of the treaty, dog. I was, after all, party to it. Allow me to remind _you_. As you said, it states _bite._ It doesn't say we can't _turn_ a human. It states we can't _bite_ one."

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Note: This chapter marks a bit of a change and was necessary for two reasons. First, Bella had to admit to herself that she was mad at Edward for getting sick. I think that's a normal response, but it's probably the hardest part of grieving for a person to admit. As completely illogical as it is, they're angry with the person who died for getting sick, even though they know it wasn't the deceased's fault. While reading about the stages of grief, I read somewhere that while everyone is different, about six months is average for a person who's experienced a major loss, like a spouse, to begin to feel like themselves again. Edward died in June, Bella's time, and it's now February, so that puts us at eight months. In New Moon, Edward left in September, and it was Spring Break when Bella went cliff diving, again about eight months. So I think it fits that she passes through the last door of the grieving process at this point, and admitting to herself that she's fallen in love with Edward Cullen is what pushed her through that door.

The second reason was that Edward needed to admit to himself that if changing Bella was the only way to save her, he'd do it. As much as he hates what he is, he'd change Bella rather than let her die. When he saved her from the bear it was different. That was either he got there in time or he didn't. There was no option for if he didn't get there in time.

But this chapter also marks a change in that now that they're both ready, things begin to heat up between them. You know that feeling you get when you're sitting in the first seat on a rollercoaster as you're going up the first hill so very slowly, the anticipation building as you wait to get to the top, then you get to the top, and you can see the drop in front of you, actually feel it before it happens for those brief seconds before the rest of the train reaches the top and you just know what's coming, and you put your hands in the air and inhale so you can scream the whole way down? The next chapter is the top of the hill. While the NC17 rating won't be earned just yet, the "let's be friends" phase is over.

I hope you all liked it! Drop me a review and let me know what you think of it! Thanks so much for reading!


	31. Chapter 31

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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_In the end, Edward was forced to admit there was only one decision he could make, that he could allow another to make. He could not sit back and do nothing and watch as the love of his existence died in front of him. It would be the most selfish thing he could ever do, but he had no choice. He had unknowingly waited for over ninety years for her. Now that he found her, he couldn't lose her._

"_I'm well aware of the wording of the treaty, dog. I was, after all, party to it. Allow me to remind _you_. As you said, it says _bite_. It doesn't say we can't _turn_ a human. It says we can't _bite _one."_

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_Edward, what did you mean by that?_

Ignoring Tanya's question and her intention to drive, Edward climbed into the driver's seat of her SUV. He subconsciously needed to do something, _anything_ to divert at least a small part of his mind from the thoughts that were overwhelming him, even if that was something as mundane as driving.

Tanya understood and gave him the keys while still mentally asking unanswered questions. _Why did you say that? What are you thinking?_

Edward started the car and pulled out, never taking his eyes off the road. The ambulance was too far away now; he could no longer hear the mind of the paramedic riding with Bella. His mental debate and brief exchange with the dog had cost him time, and in that time the ambulance had taken his Bella farther and farther away from him. Not being able to see her, even if only through the eyes of another, was agonizing.

_Dammit, Edward! Answer me! What did you mean by that?_

Edward ground his teeth. The dogs were ranting over what he'd said just as much as Tanya was. However, they were, of course, at opposite ends of the spectrum. The dogs were livid. Tanya was practically radiating hope.

_Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut?_ He had let Fido get to him and had let his emotions override his mind again, just like when he'd lost control of himself back in August and they'd fought. The result of that incident had been that the dogs had come to realize they could not win in a one-on-one fight with a vampire and had begun analyzing how Edward had fought, planning both offensive and defensive tactics. Collectively, his family had all agreed that was for the better. While they certainly did not _like_ the dogs, they did not wish to see any of them slaughtered by a passing nomad. Additionally, as Eleazar had pointed out, if that nomad survived and reported back to the Volturi that there were werewolves on the Olympic Peninsula and that the Cullens were not only aware of that fact but had actually brokered an arrangement with them, it could not end well for any of them. Aro would not hesitate to claim their treaty with the wolves was an alliance with their natural enemies against their own kind and have them all killed—_all_ _of them_:the dogs, Charlie, and… and… Bella.

_EDWARD! _

Knowing the dogs were running parallel to them in the forest, and not wanting to be overheard, Edward tuned the radio to a hard rock station and turned it up as loud as it would go before whispering, "I meant exactly what I said. As the dogs have grown so fond of reminding us, the treaty specifies biting. It says nothing about _killing_, but nor does it specify _changing_. We could inject them with venom using a syringe. As long as we don't _bite_ them, we don't violate the treaty. Even the dogs can't argue that. They will anyway, of course."

Tanya was quiet both mentally and verbally for a fraction of a second before her mind erupted with possibilities. It took two minutes for her to realize he'd used plural pronouns. _We? Them? Edward, have you— _

Edward didn't let her finish the thought. He closed his eyes as if it would block out the images in his head, as if he could build a wall between himself and the guilt of his selfish decision, "I can't lose her, Tanya. I can't. I can't watch her die. I just…. God forgive me, but I can't."

"There's no reason to assume the worst, Edward. Bella will be in the hands of the most skilled doctor on the planet."

"So was I, once. It wasn't enough."

The nearly twenty-minute drive to the hospital felt more like twenty years. Edward caught up to the ambulance very quickly and listened to every word and every thought from the paramedic treating his Bella. The man continued talking to her and asking her questions as he checked her vital signs. He was very good at his job—both compassionate and caring as well as highly skilled—for which Edward was incredibly grateful.

Her speech was steadily improving; although it was still slurred, it was much less so. Bella had no recollection of how she'd been injured or even of having been in the woods.

Carlisle was in the emergency room, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Edward heard his well-intended reassurances as they neared the hospital. He knew Carlisle wasn't sugarcoating or downplaying the severity of Bella's condition, but his reassurances did nothing to ease Edward's anxiety. Humans died of head injuries every day, often suddenly and unexpectedly.

Edward heard his father's mind as the ambulance arrived, and he began to examine her. The paramedic—his father had called him Alex—spoke to Carlisle, giving him Bella's vital signs and as much history of the accident as he knew.

_Stop the car. Go. I'll park and be right in._

Edward did as Tanya said, and pulling up to the ambulance entry bay, he slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching stop. This was not the public entrance to the emergency room—the public was expected to enter by the main emergency room doors directly to the waiting room and reception area—but his Bella was not in the waiting room or reception area; she was in triage, just inside these doors. He jumped out of the car and hurried through the automatic doors as quickly as he dared, barely passing for a human speed.

The sight that greeted him was expected, he'd seen it in his father's mind, but he was still unprepared for it and froze just inside the glass doors. His Bella was laying on a gurney with Carlisle on one side and her father on the other. And she was arguing with them both. His father was shining a light into her eyes, examining her and asking her general questions. Her speech was much improved; there was only a slight slur left. She answered his questions impatiently and repeatedly insisted she wanted to go home. She obviously did not like hospitals, and she made it clear she did not want to be here.

Her heart rate was increasing in her agitation. She was emphatic, imploring her father to take her home. Edward didn't know why, but his mate was terrified.

_Edward, any idea why she's so frightened?_ his father asked.

He looked at his father and shook his head minutely in answer to his nonverbal question. Even with his Bella's ease and familiarity with himself and his siblings, it would make sense if she was afraid of Carlisle—having only met him once when she'd visited in August, Carlisle was a virtual unknown, and he was in an authority position over her. But that wasn't it at all, Edward realized. She wasn't afraid of Carlisle; she was afraid of being in the hospital.

Edward was standing in front of the sliding glass doors, and even through his clothes and jacket, he felt the warmth of the sun on his back as it sank lower in the sky and peeked too close to the edge of the clouds it was hidden behind before safely retreating behind its thick grey shield again. There was a moment's panic as he looked around and scanned the thoughts of the few humans near enough to have seen, but no one had been looking in his direction at that particular moment—everyone's attention was focused on their job. Even if they had been looking at him, Edward reassured himself, the sun had only hit his back, so only the skin on the back of his neck had been exposed to it and only for a few seconds. If any of the humans in the emergency room had seen anything, it would have been very little and so brief they would have assumed their eyes were playing tricks on them, that they had imagined it.

"Edwurrd?"

From across the small, open section of the emergency room devoted to triage, his Bella's beautiful brown eyes were clear and focused and looking right at him. Her pupils were no longer dilated, he noted with relief. As his mate looked right at him, the fear on her face eased. Thrilled at the possibility that it was seeing _him_ that was helping to calm her, Edward went to her and stood next to his father, taking her hand in his. Her eyes had stayed on him as he'd crossed the room and taken her hand; now, they slowly left his face, lowering to come to rest on their clasped hands. She moved her hand and threaded their fingers together tentatively before looking back up at him.

"Edwurrd?"

A look of peace and calm settled over her features, and she smiled up at him. Edward's legs almost gave out under him at the sight, but he collected himself. She still needed that CT scan.

"Bella, this is my father. You met him last summer, do you remember? There's nothing to be afraid of. He only wants to help you. He needs to run a test to make sure you didn't hur… to make sure you're… not.…" Edward still couldn't make himself say the words, and Carlisle took over.

"Bella, the test we're going to run is called a CT scan. We're basically going to take lots of pictures of your brain in layers, like a loaf of sliced bread. You hit your head very hard when you fell, and we need to make sure there's no bleeding or swelling. It doesn't hurt at all, I promise. You'll just hear some clicking and maybe some whirring. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Annd then I caan go howme?"

"I can't promise anything, Bella. You may have to stay the night."

Before Carlisle could finish, Bella's blood pressure skyrocketed, and she tried to sit up on the gurney. Her eyes darted from his father to him to her father and back again before settling on him as her fingers tightened their grip on his.

"There's nothing to fear, dearest. I promise. I'm right here," Edward soothed.

Her grip on his hand remained tight as he brushed her hair away from her face with his free hand, but she lay back down.

"I'll review the results as soon as the test is done and discuss them with your father," Carlisle continued.

Tanya arrived and stood next to Charlie. He leaned heavily against her as she put her arm around his waist. Charlie hadn't said anything since he'd arrived, but Edward knew he hadn't missed any of what had passed between Bella and himself. After the night their desk was delivered, he'd approached Charlie and had told him the truth.

Well, most of it anyway. The miracle that his mate and he had shared while he'd been alive wasn't his secret alone to decide to share.

Charlie had been surprised, to say the least, but not entirely unhappy, Edward thought. He wasn't from a generation of fathers who expected young men to ask their permission before attempting to win their daughter's affection. No father, Edward supposed, really relished the thought of some man telling him he was in love with his daughter—add to it the fact that Edward was more than five times Bella's age and a vampire. Of course, at the time, Edward had believed winning Bella's friendship would be enough, and he'd told Charlie so.

Now, he knew just how wrong he'd been.

His father continued speaking to his mate, "If the results are good, you may just need to hang out and visit with us for a while."

To Edward, he continued, _Alice is on the way. I'm sure she'll know the results before we even run the test._

Bella was wheeled into a semi-private, curtained-off cubical to await the test, and in a short while, a nurse brought a hospital gown for her to put on and pulled the curtain at the end of her cubicle shut as she shooed them all out. Bella's anxiety returned, and she held her father's and Edward's hands tighter.

"Bells, we'll just be on the other side of the curtain. We're not leaving," Charlie said to his daughter.

Alice arrived with Esme, and they ignored the nurse trying to get them to step outside the curtain so she could get Bella ready for her test. Alice hugged her friend gently. "Don't you worry about a thing. You're going to be just fine. Just humor them and let them run their test, and when you come out I'll have your favorite waiting for you."

"My favowrrrite?"

"White pizza with broccoli, right? With extra cheese. From Anthony's. Emmett's picking it up now."

Carlisle ushered them all out much more successfully than the poor nurse. "Alright, everyone out. Let Joan do her job and get Bella ready. The sooner we get the test started the sooner we get the results."

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..ooOoo..

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Bella watched as Edward and Alice's father held the curtain at the end of her cubicle to the side. Her mind felt just like that—like a curtain had been drawn across it, but was slowly being pulled aside. Everything was so confused. The man in the ambulance…. _What was his name again?_ Bella was sure he'd mentioned his name, but she couldn't remember it. He'd said she'd fallen and hit her head. She didn't remember that either, but she had no trouble believing it. It would hardly be the first time, and her head hurt like hell. But there was something else. Something she couldn't remember, but she knew was important. What was it? Not being able to remember the name of the paramedic seemed important, but she couldn't understand why. She was sure she'd never met him before; it was only recent things, things within the past couple hours that were all jumbled up. So if she'd never met him before, why did his name feel important?

Bella was glad Alice was here now. _How did Alice know what my favorite pizza was? _Tanya hugged her next. _Tanya must've told her. _

It was strange how some things straightened themselves out so easily while others refused and remained stubbornly knotted.

Now it was just her and her father, the nurse, and Edward in the little cubicle. She knew which of the three was the one she wanted to be the one to leave—unfortunately, she also knew the one she wanted to leave would be the one who stayed.

Edward squeezed her hand gently; their fingers were still twisted together. His hand didn't feel as cold now. Somehow, the coldness of his hand when he'd taken hers had been reassuring. It had calmed her. _He_ had calmed her; Edward's being there had calmed her. Bella didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her while in the ambulance that she was being taken to the hospital, but it hadn't, and when they'd opened the doors and she'd realized exactly where she was, she's panicked.

She'd hardly been a stranger to hospitals over her lifetime, but this was the first time she'd been in a hospital since Edward had died in one. Even through her foggy, confused state of mind, Bella understood that her fear was totally irrational, but it didn't matter. Irrational or not, she was scared, and she wanted to go home. She'd had so many nightmares of being lost in the endless corridors of a hospital desperately searching for Edward as he called out to her, begging her to help him, or running down hallway after hallway chasing a phantom orderly pushing him on a gurney toward the morgue while he cried that he wasn't dead. The sudden thought that shewas now the one on the gurney in the hospital and that Edwardwould be the one unable to find her had scared her, and she'd started to panic.

_But he had found her_. He'd found her _again_.

She'd heard the automatic doors slide open and had looked toward them, and she'd seen him again; she'd seen the same faint sparkle of light she'd seen in the trees before he'd saved her from the bear last August. It had only been for a moment and much smaller than before, but it had been enough for her to know he was there. Just like in August with the bear, she'd needed him and he'd come to her. And this time he'd chosen to appear to her from behind Edward Cullen. Did that mean he knew how she felt about him? About how she felt about _both_ of them? Was he trying to tell her it was OK?

All Bella was certain of was that when she saw her two Edwards, the fear went away. But now Edward was going to have to go so she could have this stupid test. Bella looked up at him and held his hand tightly in her own. How could she explain to him that she didn't want him to leave because she didn't want to be alone and afraid again? "Don't leave me," she pleaded.

Edward leaned down and her heart slammed against her ribs as he gently pressed his ice cold lips to her forehead. She felt his words as much as she heard them, his cool breath ghosting across her skin.

"My sweet Bella, I never have."

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_My sweet Bella, I never have…._

Dreaming of Edward, Bella rolled over and sighed in her sleep. She woke up to the sound of rain pelting off her window as her dream faded away. It was morning, she knew, but with the dark clouds it looked like it was the middle of the night. They'd been at the hospital last night for nearly four hours before Edward's father had finally said she could go home. She rolled onto her back and looked up at her ceiling. Edward had _kissed_ her. Much of yesterday afternoon and evening was confused, but _that_ was crystal clear. He really had kissed her. She bit her lip and giggled. _God, I sound just like Jessica and Lauren._

Bella rolled her eyes at herself and curled up on her side, holding her quilt to her chest like a teddy bear. Her first kiss. She'd finally had her first kiss. Yeah, it had only been on her forehead and in front of both her father and his, but still…. It counted. And he'd called her _his sweet Bella_….

She gently buried her face in her bunched up quilt—her head did still hurt a little—and squealed. _God, I'm _even worse _than Jessica and Lauren._

Tanya knocked softly on her door before opening it a crack and peeking in. "I thought I heard you up." She came in, and Bella sat up moving her feet to make room for her to sit on the end of the bed. "I brought you some orange juice and two more Tylenol."

Bella took the pills and made a face as she swallowed them with a large drink of juice. No matter how many times she'd had to take pills over the years, it was just something she could never get used to. When she'd been little, her mother had always crushed them up and mixed them into apple sauce for her.

"Did you manage to get anymore sleep?" Tanya asked.

Bella blushed; she was glad of the dark to hide it. Either Tanya or her father had come into her room to wake her up every couple hours last night because of her concussion, and being reminded of getting more sleep only reminded her of her dream—with the cousin of the subject of said dream sitting mere feet away.

"A little," she responded.

With the way Tanya arched her eyebrow at her, Bella was afraid she somehow knew she'd dreamed about her cousin.

_Oh, God. Mom always said I talked in my sleep. I didn't, did I? Please, God, tell me I didn't talk in my sleep. _

Bella self-consciously wrapped her arms around her knees, and Tanya took pity on her. Standing up, she smiled and walked to the door. "Your mom called about ten minutes ago. Give her a call back."

Bella groaned. In spite of every argument she could think of, her father had insisted on calling her mother as soon as they'd returned home last night, and just as Bella had expected, she had completely freaked out.

"Bella, she's your mother, and she loves you very much. She misses you, and she worries. Give her a call," Tanya reproached gently.

Remembering that her father had told her that Tanya's own mother had died in a fire, Bella felt guilty and promised she'd call.

"After that, if you want to take a shower; I'll make you pancakes. Do you want to come downstairs, or do you want me to bring them up to you?" Tanya asked.

Bella got out of bed and stretched. "No, I'll come down."

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After assuring her mother she had survived the night and taking her shower, Bella joined Tanya in the kitchen.

"Your mom said these are your favorite." Tanya set a tall stack of chocolate chip pancakes in the middle of the table, and Bella's mouth watered. "She also said you'd want this?" Tanya handed her a jar of peanut butter along with the syrup. She sounded skeptical and looked unsure of herself, like she was afraid she had misunderstood her mother and was giving her the wrong thing.

"Oh, perfect." Bella took three of the fluffy pancakes off the stack and slathered peanut butter on each one before covering the pile with syrup. Tanya smiled, clearly relieved, but shook her head like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "It's weird, I know. But believe me, don't knock it 'til you try it."

"I'll just take your word for it."

Bella's eyes closed as she took the first bite; she was in pancake heaven.

Tanya put the mixing bowl in the dishwasher and put the griddle in the sink before sitting down across from her. Bella tried to speak but all the peanut butter had her mouth temporarily glued shut. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Aren't you having any?"

"No, I had breakfast before your dad went to work. I talked to him while you were in the shower. He was glad to hear you were up already."

"Really, I'm fine. Dr. Cullen said so last night."

Edward's father had wanted her to stay home from school at least for today and possibly tomorrow depending on how she felt. Her father had wanted to call off work today to stay home with her, but Bella had insisted she was fine. Tanya was with her, after all.

As Bella ate, Tanya rested her chin on her palm and smiled knowingly at her. The arched eyebrow from earlier was back, and Bella swallowed a mouthful of pancakes, again worried she had talked in her sleep when she'd dreamed about Edward. But now that she was more awake, she knew that even if she had, her bedroom door had been closed and Tanya had been downstairs—even if she had talked in her sleep, she wouldn't have been overheard.

"So, you and my cousin?"

Bella had just taken a drink of juice, and she nearly choked on it. _Oh my God. I did talk in my sleep, and she did hear me. I didn't… What did I say? I didn't… When he… when I…. when we_… _I didn't _yell _did I? Please tell me I didn't yell. _Bella had a nightmare vision that she'd screamed something horribly embarrassing like, "Edward! More! Yes! Yes!" Or worse… The things they'd done together in her dream…. If she'd yelled out for real some of the things she'd yelled out in her dream…. Oh, God…. Yeah, she'd yelled that, too. More than once. Several times, actually.

Bella ducked her head; she felt her face flame and wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Tanya stood up and crossed the kitchen to the sink and began washing the griddle. Bella could smell the cucumber melon scented dish detergent from where she sat; Tanya must've used a bit too much.

Thinking about her dream only made Bella blush even more. Just like last night, he'd kissed her on her forehead, and she was afraid he was going to leave her. She asked him to stay, and again just like last night, he'd started to say something but hadn't finished: "My sweet Bella, I never have…."

Bella wished she knew what it was he'd been trying to tell her he'd never done.

After a few minutes Tanya set the griddle in the dish drainer to dry and turned toward her, leaning against the counter.

"Edward is quite taken by you, Bella. I've never seen him like this. He's happier since he's met you than I've ever known him to be, and I've known him most of his life."

After last night, Bella accepted that, as unbelievable as it was, Edward liked her—liked her like _that_. It wasn't just that he'd kissed her, but the way he'd held her hand and the way he'd spoken to her…. Bella couldn't keep the smile off her face as she remembered. But now hearing his own cousin confirm it and hearing that she made him happy…. Hearing by the pleased tone of Tanya's voice that his family approved of her for him….

"I'm quite taken by him, too," Bella responded, overjoyed.

"I'm so glad. We all are. Carlisle and Esme were glad to see you again last night; though, of course, they wish it had been under different circumstances. They've been wanting him to bring you back to the house."

Bella finished her pancakes, trying not to smile from ear to ear and stood to take her plate to the dishwasher, but Tanya took it from her. "I've got it. You go lie down. Watch television. Or something." Tanya winked at her and shooed her out of the kitchen.

As Bella walked into the living room there was a knock on the door. "I got it," she called over her shoulder. She looked through the leaded glass window in the door and couldn't believe her eyes. Edward was standing on the porch holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and an umbrella against the pouring rain in the other. She opened the door for him, and he came in, smiling his radiant smile as he handed her the flowers and shook off his umbrella and raincoat.

"How is our patient this morning?" Edward asked.

"What are you doing here?"

He smirked at her. "Do you want me to leave?"

No, she very definitely did not want him to leave. "No, of course not. Just… shouldn't you— you know—_be at school_?"

"I ditched."

"You _ditched_? You ditched school and came to the house of the _Chief of Police_, where your _cousin_ just happened to be?" Bella looked back toward the kitchen, but Tanya had her back to them as she continued straightening-up the already spotless room. Bella pulled him further into the room and out of view from the kitchen and whispered, "Aren't you afraid your parents will find out?"

Edward laughed and gave the most gorgeous lopsided smile. "They know where I am."

"They_ do_?" Bella couldn't believe it. Her parents would've had kittens if they ever found out she'd ditched school. Not that she ever had. "You _ditched _school, your parents _know_, and they're _OK with it_?"

His smile faded. "One or two days of high school more or less isn't going to make the least bit of difference. Believe me." Bella could hear something in his voice as he said that, see something in his eyes, something like sorrow, like there was a hidden meaning she felt she should understand but didn't. It felt private, and she looked away.

In her surprise—and delight—in seeing him, she hadn't taken much notice of the flowers he'd handed her, but now she did. They were beautiful. And they were heavy. Setting them down on the coffee table, Bella inhaled their scent deeply. Lilacs and baby's breath and…. apple blossoms, she thought. There were small yellow flowers dotted along a long stem and small purple pompom-like flowers she didn't know the names of and sprigs of greenery with small, glossy, teardrop-shaped oval leaves. This clearly wasn't just some "I saw this in the checkout line at the grocery store and thought of you" bouquet of flowers. The eclectic arrangement was in a tall, intricately and deeply cut crystal vase.

"Edward… thank you. You didn't have to bring me flowers." _But, oh God, am I happy you did._ "They're beautiful." The flowers filled the entire room with their fragrance.

"Then they're appropriate," he said lovingly.

Bella blushed and looked away, trying to hide it. "The vase is beautiful, too." Carefully, she ran her fingers along the sharpness of the elaborate patterns cut into the glass—starbursts, pinwheels, crosshatch. Remembering an auction she and her mother had gone to last January featuring antique crystal and everything the dealer had told her, Bella admired the craftsmanship. There were no wear marks that she could see, but of course, she couldn't see the bottom. Still, she thought it was genuine and not a reproduction. The cutter who'd made it was highly skilled; even with her very limited knowledge, it was obviously very well made. It was easily worth hundreds of dollars. "American Brilliant Period?" she asked.

Edward sat down. "I'm very impressed. Yes, it is. How did you know?"

"My mother went through an antiquing phase last year. I learned a bit."

Bella's heart panged with the reminder of what her mother's antiquing phase last year had led to, and Edward smiled at her quietly for a few moments.

"I'm glad you like it. It belonged to my mother."

Bella was momentarily left speechless. _It belonged to his _mother_? And he used it to bring _me _flowers? Oh, wow. _"I promise I'll be very careful with it, and get it right back to you once the flowers die."

Edward chuckled. "I don't want it back, Bella. It's a gift. It's yours now. It'll look very well on your desk."

"You can't be serious." Bella was overwhelmed. "Edward, it was your _mother's_. Aside from that it's got to be worth at least $500. I can't possibly take it."

"I'm not taking it back, Bella. It's yours."

Bella started to protest, but Edward cut her off.

"Edward, really, I—"

"Give it up, Bella. I come from a very stubborn family. Two of them, actually. The vase is yours. Now, what do you want to do? We have all day."

"I want you to say you'll take your mother's vase back. Edward, really, it's just too much. I can't accept it."

"Bella, please. I truly want you to have it. I barely remember my mother. It's really just something Carlisle took from our house in Chicago for me after she died. I don't even remember it. I have plenty of other things of hers that actually mean something to me, things I have memories of seeing her use or wear."

Bella fell silent. The similarities between her two Edwards just kept growing.

Had she really just thought that? Her _two _Edwards?

"Bella. Say something. Is it your head? How is your vision? What day is it today?"

Bella shook herself. She must've really spaced out because Edward was kneeling in front of her with Tanya standing behind him—both looking worried—and she hadn't even realized he'd moved or noticed Tanya had entered the room.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry, I just… zoned out for a minute I guess. Did you just say you were from Chicago?"

Edward closed his eyes for several long seconds, and when he opened them he looked nervous, like he'd let slip something he shouldn't have. But why would he not want her to know he was from Chicago? He couldn't know what Chicago meant to her. He stuttered, "Oh. Um. Yeah. Yeah, I am. Originally."

"But, you, you moved here from Alaska. I thought you were from Alaska."

"We only lived in Alaska for a few years."

"Oh…. I just… I just assumed…. Never mind. It doesn't matter."

By how relieved Edward seemed when she let it go, it was clear he didn't want to talk about it, and Bella mentally kicked herself. She wished she hadn't even mentioned it. _God, I sounded like I was making some kind of accusation against him. He gave me a beautiful gift and tried to open up to me about his biological mother, and I have to go and jump all over him. _

The superficial similarities between her two Edwards were irrelevant—no matter how many of them piled up. They were two very different people—two very different, very wonderful people.

Picking her purse up off the side table, Tanya said, "Bella, if you're sure you're all right, I have to run some errands. Edward, I'm glad you're here. I trust you can keep Bella company while I'm out." She slipped her raincoat on as she spoke and grabbed an umbrella from the stand near the door. Without waiting for an answer and with one last knowing look, she was gone.

"Now, what do you want to do today?" Edward asked. "Nothing too strenuous. Doctor's orders."

"So, no mountain climbing then?"

"Not unless you want me to carry you."

The idea of Edward carrying her was not unwelcome, but it jogged something in Bella's mind. She couldn't remember what it was, but she knew there was something there _to_ remember.

The phone rang, and Bella got up to answer it. "It's probably my dad. I already talked to my mom this morning. I won't mention you're here. _Your _parents might be OK with you ditching, but no way would he be."

When she answered the phone, Bella was surprised to hear Jacob's voice on the other end of the line, but she was touched he'd called to check on her. She wasn't used to guys being interested in her, and she'd been afraid that after she'd made it clear she only wanted to be friends, or once the novelty of a new kid in town wore off, Jacob wouldn't want to bother with her anymore. He'd been one of her first friends, her first guy friend, and she didn't want to lose him.

"Don't tell me you ditched too?" she asked.

"Ditched? No, I'm at school. Why would you think I ditched?"

"You can use your phone at school?"

"Sure, sure. So long as I don't get caught at least."

"Jake! If you get caught you'll get in trouble."

"You worry too much. I won't get caught. What did you mean _too_?"

"Edward's here. Can you believe he ditched to spend the day with me? And he brought me flowers."

"Yeah, he's the greatest. Must be nice to just do what you want all the time and have more money than God." The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"Jake, come on. Don't be like that. You don't even know him."

"I know more than enough. Listen, Bella, I gotta go. It's time for class. Not all of us can just show up whenever we feel like it. Just… just promise me you'll be careful. He's not as great as you think he is."

As much as she liked Jacob, Bella's patience was running thin. "Have you ever even met him?"

"Oh, we've met. Just… be careful. I'll be calling you tonight to make sure you're OK."

His voice rose as he spoke, and Jacob hung up before she could say anything in Edward's defense. Bella was exasperated. Edward and his family were good people. Why couldn't anyone else see that? His parents had been so nice to her last night, and Alice and their mother had gone out while she'd gotten the CT scan and brought back her favorite pizza from Anthony's. But the only things the kids at school could see were how beautiful they were and how much money they had, and her friends on the reservation seemed to think they were somehow personally responsible for everything that was wrong with the world.

Biting her lip, Bella hung up and looked back at Edward. He looked livid, and she could see his jaw moving like he was grinding his teeth. She'd seen him do that before when he was angry. And his hands were balled into fists again. This was Angry Edward. He'd once told her he had a problem with his temper, but she thought the problem was that he held it all in. He wouldn't let himself just yell or throw something to vent his anger out. It wasn't healthy, and she worried about him. She really wished he didn't feel like he had to be a perfect gentleman all the time. He was a normal seventeen-year-old boy—it was perfectly normal for him to get angry when someone insulted him and his family.

The thought reminded Bella of Edward's Uncle Richard, of how angry his uncle had made him after his father's death and how guilty he'd felt for having putting him in his place, however much she and the rest of his family had tried to assure him he'd been justified. He'd felt he had disappointed both his mother and her by losing his temper. Did Edward think she would think less of him if he let himself get angry? Was he worried she would be mad at him if he spoke badly about Jacob because she'd been friends with him first?

Bella knew there was no way he could have heard what Jacob said, but to look at him she'd have sworn he had. It surprised her how very protective of Edward she felt. Just as, last year, she had needed to make Edward Masen understand he hadn't done anything wrong, she now needed to make Edward Cullen understand he didn't need be perfect every minute of the day.

After all, he was only human.

She knelt down in front of him and looked at him for a moment before taking his hands in hers, threading their fingers together like he had done last night. He swallowed hard, never breaking eye contact with her. "I'm glad you're here, Edward. Thank you." He smiled at her, hesitatingly at first before the lopsided smile she loved so much spread across his face. "You know, it was only yesterday that you told me I didn't have to pretend to be happy if I wasn't. The same goes for you. You don't have to pretend to not be angry when you are. The way people treat and talk about your family is wrong and unfair. You have every right to be royally pissed off."

Edward looked at her with such a serious expression on his face, like there was something difficult he had to tell her, but the moment passed, and he looked away, gently rubbing his thumb against the side of her hand. Whatever he wanted to tell her, he wasn't ready.

The mood was serious and heavy, and Bella wanted to bring back the easy comfort from before Jacob had called. "So, did you have any ideas what we could do today?" she asked.

When Bella realized the position she was in and what she had just asked, an idea or two from her dream last night occurred to her. _But the doctor did say nothing strenuous._ She felt how red her face turned remembering her dream and what she'd just thought. _What has come over me? I only really accepted how I feel about him yesterday, and here I am ready to climb onto his lap. _

Edward stood up abruptly and held his hand out to her. "Yeah, actually I do. Want to get out of here?"

Surprised, Bella looked at the still pouring rain, rather wishing they could just stay here, but she agreed, and as Edward helped her on with her coat, she asked where they were going.

"My house."

"Oh, OK."

His confidence seemed to fade as quickly as it had come. "Unless…. If you don't want to…." Edward looked outside and seemed to only just now realize it was raining. "Maybe we should just stay here."

"No. I want to go. I've never seen your house." Bella suddenly realized she didn't even know where Edward lived. Forks was a small town; she already knew where all her friends at school lived—all of them, that was, except the two most important: Edward and Alice. She couldn't picture Edward living in any of the houses she'd seen in Forks, they all seemed too normal and every day, and she couldn't imagine that someone wouldn't have pointed it out to her, whispering quietly as if the house itself could hear them, "That's the _Cullen_ house."

"Where _do_ you live anyway?"

"A few miles outside of town."

Bella left a note for Tanya and her father telling them where she was as Edward put his own coat on and got his umbrella. The rain was coming down in sheets, but the wind had died down, and they were able to make it Edward's car without getting totally soaked through. At least Bella did. She didn't realize until Edward got behind the wheel, but he was drenched.

"Edward! God, look at you! Did your side of the umbrella have holes in it or something? You're completely soaked. You'll get sick."

"My father is a doctor, Bella. Germs make people sick, not the weather. Colds and flus are caused by viruses, not getting a little wet." He looked at her as he pulled the car onto the road. "You know that."

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If you happen to like Harry Potter Drarry slash, check out the HD Career Fair at hd - fan –fair . live journal I'm pimping it because I have a fic submitted, but it's an anonymous fest, so I'm not allowed to tell you which one is mine. I have no idea if that FFn will allow that link even broken up like it is, but if you Goggle it, I'm sure you'll find it. I don't know why, but if you're taken to an old page from 2010, like I just was, scroll down until you see the orange link for the Career Fair, it'll take you directly to it.

Notes:

Hey, don't knock peanut butter on pancakes—it's the best! However, I wouldn't recommend it on blueberry pancakes. (You'll see.)

The vase Edward gives Bella her flowers in was mentioned once before. His father gave his mother flowers for her birthday in it. I'm a nut for American Brilliant Period cut glass, and I've got several pieces—some small, chipped or cracked pieces I bought at auctions for as little as $10 and one very good one that's been passed down through the family since it was originally bought brand new by a great-great (possibly great again) aunt. The cuts are so deep and so sharp, you could cut yourself on them if you're not careful, and it rings as clearly as any bell. Just like anything else, you can get cheap stuff or really expensive stuff, depending on how well it was made and what condition it's in. The American Brilliant Period in cut glass ran from 1876, when it was introduced at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, until 1917 when America entered the Great War and lead oxide was needed for more urgent uses. Prior to the Centennial Exposition, European glass was the "it" thing and was believed to be superior to anything made domestically, but the intricately cut patterns of ABP were so unlike anything produced prior, people went crazy for it. At the 1889 Paris Exposition, grand prizes were awarded to a company in Corning, New York for two patterns, Grecian and Chrysanthemum. By 1893, ABP crystal was ordered by the White House, the presidents of Mexico and Cuba, and even Edward VII of Great Britain. At its high point, ABP had no equals. Between 1908 and 1915 some of the most elegant patterns of cut glass ever created were produced. But it was incredibly expensive to produce, and molding and acid polishing techniques began being used and inferior pressed glass products began to appear on the market. The vogue for tables set with cut crystal began to fade, the industry began to decline, and WW1 was the death nail.

The flowers Edward gave her all have a meaning, which Bella will find out shortly.

Drop me a review and let me know what you thought of it!


	32. Chapter 32

An early update as tomorrow is going to be crazy busy.

Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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"Are we there yet?"

Edward laughed, "Do you see a house yet?"

"I think you're lost."

"Give me a little credit, Bella. I do know the way to my own house."

"No, I don't think you do. I think you're lost."

"We're almost there, I promise."

This playful bantering with Edward was as close to perfect as Bella could imagine anything being. "I still think we're lost."

"We. _Are_. _Not_. Lost."

"There are _no houses_ out this far. We're _in the middle of the woods_."

"We live in the middle of the woods."

"Oh, really? You live in the middle of the woods?"

"Mhmmm. Tree house."

Just then, Edward turned off the highway unexpectedly and onto a very narrow dirt road, which Bella hadn't even seen. At first, she'd thought he'd swerved off the road to avoid a deer until Edward gloated, "See, like I said. We're almost there. This is the driveway."

"I still don't see a house. If we're on the driveway, I should be able to see a house. All I see are trees. Oh, great. We really are _literally_ in the _middle_ of the woods now."

"Just wait. It's only another ten or twelve miles now."

"Ten or twelve miles!?"

"Gotcha."

"Really, Edward. Just admit it, we're lossss…. Oh… wow."

After what had to have been a least a mile, the narrow dirt road led out of the dense woods and into a large clearing several acres in size, right in the middle of which sat a large, three-story, white house with a porch that wrapped all the way around.

"See. I told you we weren't lost. Do you like it?"

Unbelievably, Edward sounded hesitant, unsure of himself when he'd asked her if she liked his house.

Dear Lord…. How could she not? How could _anyone_ not?

"Do I…. Do I _like_ it? Edward, it's…. It's _beautiful_."

It was. It really was. Sitting in the middle of the ancient forest it was like a dream, like a mirage. It looked like a Victorian dollhouse that had magically become life-sized. As Edward drove closer to the house, Bella could see the porch better. It was framed with Victorian gingerbread trim and brackets, and the balusters were cut in an intricate pattern of scrolls and scallops. There were porch swings and rocking chairs, and she could almost picture the hanging baskets full of flowers she was sure would be there in the summer and the heavy swags of pine with a huge glittering tree in the window at Christmas. This was a house that belonged in fairy tales, not reality.

The driveway curved and led them around the side of the house, and as a light came on in a room on that side of the house, Bella could see the lace curtains covering the windows.

One of several garage doors opened, and Edward pulled in. Tanya's car was parked next to them, and there were three others beside hers and Edward's, plus an empty spot.

_A _six-_car garage? _For the first time, Bella felt a little nervous. _Just how much money does his family have? _ She bit her lip and looked down at her clothes. She was just wearing a plain purple sweater with jeans and Alice's old Uggs.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Bella could see Edward watching at her. When she didn't look up he reached over and put two fingers under her chin, lifting her face to look at him.

"Bella? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"No pretending, remember?"

"No, really. Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking I should've worn something nicer."

"You look beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice was obvious, and it made Bella feel like she might just burst. Still, she was about to meet his parents. Oh, she'd met them last summer, and she knew they'd both been to the hospital last night, although she couldn't really remember it clearly, but this was different. She really wished she'd dressed nicer.

Edward got out and was at her door before she'd gotten her seatbelt off, and she looked up, surprised, when he opened her door. She looked back at the driver's seat and then out the windshield. The car was pulled too close to the wall in front of it for Edward to have come around that way; he would have had to have walked around behind the car. _How did he get here so fast?_

He took her hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked into the house together.

Inside, the house was even more beautiful. It was an eclectic collection of styles where Victorian antiques mixed with mid-century and contemporary pieces in a way that shouldn't have worked but somehow did. The high ceilings, walls, and carpets were all varying shades of white and were the perfect backdrop for the furnishings and decorations, which were a myriad of colors that complemented and contrasted each other charmingly.

One room in particular caught her eye. First, because it was an exception to the open and airy brightness of the other rooms. Second, because it was full of books. "Oh…" Bella stopped walking and stood mesmerized.

"Do you like it?"

"Do I…."

They walked into the room, and Edward flipped on the lights. The walls in this room were a dark green, and the wood both in the built-in bookcases covering most of the wall space and the furniture was dark cherry, drawing attention to the white lace curtains. A large cut crystal lamp stood proudly next to a leather wingback chair. There was no cord coming from the lamp.

"Is that…an oil lamp?"

Bella looked back at Edward, who was still standing by the door. He was rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous manner. "Yes," he answered.

"It's _beautiful_."

Bella looked around in awe at all the books. They were all hardcover, and some looked to be very old. Several authors and titles she recognized, but one in particular made her stop. "_The Mystery of the Blue Train. _I love this book. I love Agatha Christie, but this is one of my favorites. I like the idea of second chances."

"Do you really believe that?"

It was such a simple question, but Edward's voice held a need, a desperation that made the question sound like it carried the weight of the world.

"What? In second chances?"

He silently nodded his head, looking both sad and hopeful at the same time. Bella understood the feeling, but she couldn't understand why he would feel like that. To be adopted by people like Dr. and Mrs. Cullen after the deaths of his biological parents, if anyone believed in second chances, she would've thought he would.

"I have to," Bella answered.

Edward was very perceptive, and he picked up on the sorrow in her voice that she'd thought only she could hear. He came over to her, wrapping his arms around her.

"Bella… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't be. Some things are just… beyond our control." With Edward's arms around her, Bella was able to push the pain aside, and she laid her head against his chest, feeling him inhale deeply. She asked, "What about you? Don't you?"

"Don't I what?"

"Believe in second chances."

It was a moment before he answered, "I like to think so. I like to hope so. But I'm not so sure."

Esme entered the room. "Edward?" When his mother said his name, they stepped away from each other, as if they'd been doing something wrong and were about to be caught. "I thought I— Oh, Bella! I'm so glad you're here. I thought I heard voices in here."

Edward's adoptive mother was as beautiful as the rest of his family and greeted Bella by hugging her warmly.

"Mrs. Cullen, it's nice to see you again."

"Oh stop that, I'm Esme." Esme Cullen took Bella by the arm and led her out of the library. "I just took some brownies out of the oven. You have to come and have some. And there's ice cream…."

..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

Edward mentally groaned. He'd known this would happen; he'd heard the excitement in Esme's mind three miles away from the house, but still….

Was it really so much to ask to keep his mate to himself? _Maybe we should have stayed at her father's. _

Bella looked back at him and smiled. Little did she know his mother's thoughts were already filled with wedding dresses and flowers. Outwardly, she looked calm, but inside Esme was nearly bursting with joy. She'd been so worried about him for so long because he'd never felt the slightest interest in any of the females, human or vampire, who had been more than interested in him over the decades. She'd been afraid he'd been too young when Carlisle had changed him, but little did any of them know his lack of interest had been because he'd already found his mate and was waiting for her to be born and grow up. Smiling, Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his eyes as he followed them dutifully out of the library and through the house toward the kitchen to where he could, sure enough, smell brownies. They smelled repulsive to him, but he was sure Bella would like them.

There were two trays of the awful smelling things sitting atop the stove. Carlisle and Tanya were in the kitchen making a very convincing show of trying to finish the brownies they had stolen from one of the trays before Esme returned. Carlisle was wiping his mouth with a paper towel, and Tanya was pretending to lick chocolate icing off her finger, while in reality being very careful to not actually get any of the stuff into her mouth. Esme played her part by scolding them both for not waiting until the brownies cooled.

Tanya covered her empty mouth with her hand and spoke as if she still had a mouth full of brownie. "Edward, Bella. I thought you two were going to stay at Charlie's."

"I thought we could come here and watch some movies. I meant to take some with me, but I forgot."

Carlisle got up and came over to them on the pretext of getting a closer look at the butterfly sutures on Bella's temple. _Alice called and said you were coming. I'll try to reign them both in, but I can't make any promises._ "That looks good. No sign of infection. How do you feel?"

"I feel fine, Dr. Cullen. I had a headache when I woke up but it wasn't bad. I took two Tylenol and it went away."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it. You gave us quite the scare last night." Carlisle smiled at her affectionately. "But it's Carlisle, please. I'm only Dr. Cullen at the hospital. Once I take the white coat off, I'm just Carlisle."

If Edward was counting on his father to reign in his mother and Tanya, he was in serious trouble. He was just as elated that Edward had brought Bella here as they were and was picturing himself once again as the father of the groom, this time for the eldest son the rest of the world believed to be his youngest.

"We're just going to go pick out some movies," Edward said, hoping to escape with his mate.

Excitedly, Esme offered to make them popcorn as he led Bella out of the kitchen.

"We've got a lot of movies, is there anything in particular you'd like?"

"Not really. Anything but Titanic."

"You _don't like _Titanic?"

"No. Not anymore, no. I… just…. Not anymore."

That was strange, Edward thought to himself. In her letters, she'd said it was one of her favorite movies. He'd been just about to suggest it actually. She'd even sent him the lyrics to the movie's theme song, and the way she'd described her visit to the traveling exhibit, it had been obvious she was enamored with the story of the doomed ship. Plus, there was the fact that his family was supposed to have traveled on—_Oh_. She didn't like the movie anymore because it reminded her of him. Of the _other_ him. _Other him _was supposed to have traveled on the Titanic with his parents, but for some reason they hadn't. _Someday, I have to ask her why. _

"How about a comedy then? Emmett's the family movie collector. He's got everything organized by genre then by year."

"Holy crap!" Bella exclaimed as Edward opened the door to the movie cabinet that held the comedies. "You could open a video store. You must have almost every movie ever made!" She looked wide-eyed at the arrangement of Blu-ray's, DVD, and videos. "_Weekend at Bernie's, Ghostbusters, Young Frankenstein_. I haven't seen these movies in years. _Some Like it Hot?_ I've never even heard of that." She pulled it off the shelf. "Marilyn Monroe? Just how far back do you go?"

Edward laughed. They watched a lot of movies. Of course, they had a lot of time on their hands. No one more so than him. Up until now anyway. "All the way."

"What do you mean 'All the way?'"

"Just that. All the way. To the beginning."

"You mean… _the beginning of making movies_? You have _silent_ movies?" Even as she spoke, Bella was quickly looking through their collection and mumbling the titles as if she was looking for something specific.

"Um, yeah. Actually, those are mostly mine. I can't help it. I love them."

"You _do_?"

Bella looked at him in disbelief, and Edward cursed himself. If anything reminded her of _other him_, silent movies would be it. He remembered her letter telling _other him _that in her time, "_Guess what, movies talk now," _and he couldn't help but smile. In one of her first letters, she'd mentioned maybe trying to find a silent movie.

But if she didn't want to watch Titanic because it reminded her of him, there was no way would she want to watch a silent movie.

_If she knew it was you, she would. _The traitorous thought made him look away and rub the back of his neck guiltily. "Mhmm." Edward could picture that conversation: "Guess who? I know I still look seventeen, but really, I'm over one hundred. Remember when I said not to stand at my grave and cry because I wasn't there, I didn't die. I really meant it."_ Yeah that'd go over really well. Would she scream and then faint? Or would she scream and then run? _It had been bad enough to consider changing her last night when he hadn't known if she'd be alright, but now, today, he did know, and it was something else altogether. _Consider changing her? Who do you think you're kidding? You weren't considering_ _anything. You'd made up your mind. _

Other traitorous thoughts he'd had this morning without realizing it ran though his head. _Ask her why you never sailed on the Titanic with your parents, indeed. Exactly how do you intend to work that into a conversation?_

Edward heard Bella's sudden intake of breath when she found his collection of silent films, and he looked at her again. She was biting her lip. It looked like she was debating with herself. Twice she raised her hand to take one off the shelf only to lower it again. "Do you think… do you think we could watch one?"

Edward stood motionless, unable to speak. Three voices rang in his head simultaneously yelling the same two words and bringing him out of his shocked stupor: _Answer her! _Tanya added, _Idiot. _

"Yeah, I mean, yes… Of course... If you wish. Anything you want…."

_Answering her once is sufficient, son_, Carlisle advised.

Esme sighed happily.

Tanya laughed at him and affectionately called him an idiot again.

"Here we go. Snacks," Esme bubbled.

Edward closed his eyes, and Bella's mouth dropped open. Carlisle, Esme, and Tanya all walked in the room carrying what Esme had called "snacks." There were not only one of the trays of brownies cut and arranged on a plate and a large bowl of popcorn, but three equally large bowls of different kinds of chips, two kinds of dip, a bowl of fruit, a tray of cheese and crackers, and an entire pitcher of lemonade. Never before had any of the food that Esme dutifully purchased every week as part of their carefully maintained façade actually been consumed in their home—what could be, was taken to various food pantries throughout the state, but most was thrown away. In much the same way Tanya took pleasure in preparing human food for Charlie and Bella, in seeing them enjoy what she'd made for them, Esme had relished the chance to prepare food for his Bella, so much so that she'd gone rather overboard.

_Too much? _

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded his head. As Tanya set down two of the bowls of chips, she said good bye, explaining, "It's one of the officers' birthday. I want to get the other tray of brownies over to the station while the rain is slowed down." _Speaking of the rain, Edward. Has it escaped your notice that you're all wet? Your hair and clothes are soaked. _

Edward heard the next thought in Tanya's mind almost at the same moment she said it out loud. "Edward, why don't you give Bella a tour of the house first? You should show her your piano."

Bella looked at him strangely and choked on her words, "You play…. You play the piano?"

"Um, yeah. A little."

Esme first ruffled then smoothed his hair. "A little? Bella, don't listen to him. He's far too modest. He's very talented."

There was no doubt about it. For some reason, Edward told himself, his family hated him. What was it about mothers and bragging about their children? His human mother had once done the same with Carlisle as Esme now did with Bella.

It was several seconds before he dared look at Bella. Earlier this morning, he'd told her he was from Chicago, now he'd told her he liked silent movies—movies that were made about eighty years before he was supposed to have been born—and his parents and Tanya bring out enough food for half the school for just the two of them before telling her he plays the piano. Bella was very smart, he knew that. She was also, because of what had already happened between them, more open to the possibility of something that was supposed to be impossible, in fact, being very real. At this rate, he might as well just tell her the truth, she'd figure it out soon enough anyway. There could only realistically be so many similarities, so many connections between two supposedly wholly unconnected people living generations apart. How long would it take for her to run away from him screaming once she realized the awful truth? Minutes? Seconds? Would she be so afraid of him, so repulsed by him that she couldn't even run away screaming, that she'd be frozen in place?

_Stop it, Edward. _From across the room, Tanya was looking at him in annoyance with her arms folded in front of her. _I don't have to be able to read minds like you to know what you're thinking. Everything that made you _you _then makes you _you _now. And it's _you _that she wants, _then _and _now_. Give her a little credit will you? _ A beautiful smile flittered across Tanya's face, and Edward saw and heard his cousin's deep affection for his mate. _She's her father's daughter. _

"Why don't you pick out a movie while I run upstairs and change? I'll just be a minute," Edward suggested.

Bella nodded her head and returned her attention to the movie collection. Wanting to get back to his Bella as quickly as possible, Edward ran upstairs, only maintaining a human pace while there was a chance he was in her line of vision, and true to his word, he was at her side again in under a minute.

"Find one?"

Startled, Bella jumped when he spoke from behind her. She looked at him and back toward the stairs. "That was fast."

Edward could've ripped his own arms off. How could he have been so stupid? A human could not have gone upstairs to their room, changed, and come back downstairs that fast. "I just grabbed dry clothes from the laundry room."

"Oh." Looking doubtful, Bella turned back to the movie collection and picked a collection of movies by Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Monty Banks, Oliver Hardy, and Stan Laurel.

Watching her eyes as she looked at the cover, Edward could see that his Bella wasn't reading the description of the four movies on the DVD; her eyes were fixed on the year shown on the cover: 1917. She stared at the numbers unblinkingly. Although the date on the cover was 1917, the oldest of the shorts on the disc was from 1916; the other three were from between 1920 and 1929. He should know—three of them he had personally seen in the theater with either just Carlisle or both Carlisle and Esme, and the oldest one he had seen Carlisle's memory of watching alone. Edward assumed he had probably seen it himself, quite possibly in that same theater, while he'd still been human; he just couldn't remember it.

"That's a very good one. It's a collection of four movie shorts," he said.

Bella didn't look up right away, but when she did, the pain in her eyes was terrible to see, and Edward wrapped his arms around her again, cradling her head gently against his chest. "We don't have to watch it if you don't want to. We can do whatever you want."

He felt her clench her hands, gathering the fabric of his shirt into her fists.

"No." She sounded determined. "No, I want to." His Bella didn't make any move to step away from him, and he let his fingers trail through her hair, automatically seeking out the hidden shorter strands he had seen her subconsciously play with so many times before. He felt her body stiffen in his arms. As she relaxed in his arms, she asked, "Will you…. Will you play for me first?"

His Bella lifted her head off his chest and looked up at him with those beautiful chocolate brown eyes, and Edward was a lost man. If she'd asked him to swim across the Atlantic Ocean and steal the Crown Jewels of England for her, he'd have gladly done it. Hell, he'd have gone on to Paris and brought back the Mona Lisa, for good measure. "Your wish is my command."

The only problem Edward could foresee with playing the piano for his mate was that he'd have to let go of her first, and he really, really didn't want to let go of her.

Ever.

Bella laughed softly and blushed as she stepped away from him. She looked happier than he'd ever seen her before.

"Right this way, my sweet Bella." He bowed to her and extended his arm in the direction of the music room.

Before Esme had begun renovations to the house, there had been seven large rooms on the first floor, not counting the butler's pantry. The room that became their library was the only room that remained from that original floor plan. The rest had had walls knocked down to make their (unused until recently) kitchen, dining room, media room, and music room. Pocket doors connected the rooms together, allowing them to be opened to create one larger space or closed to give more of an illusion of privacy.

The media room was next to the music room, and Edward led Bella from one to the next. The walls in this room were a slightly darker shade of off-white, a warm parchment color. An antique oriental rug in shades of deep red and muted gold covered the floor, and the curtains were the same white lace as the rest of the first floor. In a corner on the far side of the room sat his baby grand.

This was one of his favorite day dreams, and it was really happening. Afraid Bella might sit in one of the chairs placed around the room, Edward put his hand on the small of her back and gently guided her to the piano. He wanted her to sit next to him while he played for her.

As they sat, Bella bit her lip then licked them. The sight brought other favorite day dreams of Edward's to the front of his mind, and he grimaced and shifted uncomfortably on the bench. The sound of her heartbeat speeding up was not helping. He tried to speak but his voice wasn't cooperating. Having lived among humans for so long, he was very well aware of the signals their bodies gave off when aroused and Bella, sitting so close to him that their thighs were almost touching, was unmistakably giving off all those signals. Between her increased heart rate and breathing to her intensified scent, she was driving him crazy.

"What would you like me to play?"

As innocent as the question was, it had made Edward remember sitting in Bella's living room this morning when she'd knelt in front of him and, holding his hands in hers, had asked him if he'd had any ideas what they could do today. Had she had any idea what had passed through his mind when she'd asked that?

She must have, he realized, because she'd blushed. _Or had she blushed because the same thoughts had occurred to her too? _

Edward nearly groaned out loud as he shifted again. He was no longer only uncomfortable; the image of pulling Bella onto his lap and showing her what he wanted to do with her wouldn't leave his mind, and he was so hard it was painful. Knowing what she felt like in his arms, pressed against him made the torture worse. Never could he have imagined that anything could feel that perfect.

"Anything. Whatever you like," she responded.

Ninety plus years' worth of music flew through Edward's brain, but he wanted something contemporary, something from her time, her world. Something she would recognize. Something that she would hear again and again and would remind her of him each and every time. Something that came as close as possible to all the things he wished he could tell her. So many songs, all trying to say the same thing and none coming close to saying it adequately.

He could play "My Heart Will Go On." She had sent him the words, and they seemed nearly perfectly suited for them, but she had also said that she no longer liked the movie Titanic. If she no longer liked the movie because it reminded her too much of _other_ _him_, certainly the song would be an even stronger reminder.

There had been hundreds of love songs recorded in the past two or three decades. Certainly one of them had to say what he wanted to say. There were so many things he wanted so desperately to tell her, but his was a world of secrets and lies. Lies were easy. People seldom looked deeply enough to see what was real, even in their relationships with other humans. What appeared on the surface was what mattered: the superficial, the shallow. Rarely, if ever, did most people truly look around them and wonder if what something or someone appeared to be was real.

Edward had told countless thousands of lies during his existence, and he had grown so _tired_ of it. Sometimes, he been so bored he'd daydreamed about what people's reactions would be if he just told the truth for once. But that was before Bella. With that thought in mind, he chose a song, lifted his hands to the keys, and began to play.

_I need another story  
>Something to get off my chest<br>My life gets kinda boring  
>Need something that I can confess<em>

_'Til all my sleeves are stained red_  
><em>From all the truth that I've said<em>  
><em>Come by it honestly I swear<em>  
><em>Thought you saw me wink, no<em>  
><em>I've been on the brink, so<em>

_Tell me what you want to hear_  
><em>Something that were like those years<em>  
><em>I'm sick of all the insincere<em>  
><em>So I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_This time_  
><em>Don't need another perfect line<em>  
><em>Don't care if critics ever jump in line<em>  
><em>I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_My God_  
><em>Amazing that we got this far<em>  
><em>It's like we're chasing all those stars<em>  
><em>Who's driving shiny big black cars<em>

_And every day I see the news, all the problems that we could solve_  
><em>And when a situation rises, just write it into an album<em>  
><em>Seen it straight to go<em>  
><em>I don't really like my flow, no, so<em>

_Tell me what you want to hear_  
><em>Something that were like those years<em>  
><em>I'm sick of all the insincere<em>  
><em>So I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_This time_  
><em>Don't need another perfect line<em>  
><em>Don't care if critics ever jump in line<em>  
><em>I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_Oh, got no reason, got not shame_  
><em>Got no family I can blame<em>  
><em>Just don't let me disappear<em>  
><em>I'mma tell you everything<em>

_So tell me what you want to hear_  
><em>Something that were like those years<em>  
><em>I'm sick of all the insincere<em>  
><em>So I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_This time_  
><em>Don't need another perfect line<em>  
><em>Don't care if critics ever jump in line<em>  
><em>I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_So tell me what you want to hear_  
><em>Something that were like those years<em>  
><em>Sick of all the insincere<em>  
><em>So I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_This time_  
><em>Don't need another perfect line<em>  
><em>Don't care if critics ever jump in line<em>  
><em>I'm gonna give all my secrets away<em>

_All my secrets away_  
><em>All my secrets away<em>

That song, Edward felt, came as close as possible to describing the half-life, the double life he led trapped behind invisible walls made of lies. Walls that for the first time, because of the beautiful, wonderful girl next to him, he wished he could tear down. If that song described what his reality really was, the next described what he wished it could be.

_Sitting here wasted and wounded at this old piano  
>Trying hard to capture the moment this morning I don't know<br>'Cause a bottle of vodka is still lodged in my head  
>And some blond gave me nightmares, think that she's still in my bed<br>As I dream about movies  
>They won't make of me when I'm dead<em>

_With an ironclad fist I wake up and French kiss the morning_  
><em>While some marching band keeps its own beat in my head<em>  
><em>While we're talking<em>  
><em>About all of the things that I long to believe<em>  
><em>About love, the truth, what you mean to me and the truth is<em>  
><em>Baby you're all that I need<em>

_I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses_  
><em>For tonight I'll sleep on a bed of nails<em>  
><em>I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost is<em>  
><em>And lay you down on a bed of roses<em>

_Well I'm so far away the step that I take's on my way home_  
><em>A king's ransom in dimes I'd give each night<em>  
><em>To see through this pay phone<em>  
><em>Still I run out of time or it's hard to get through<em>  
><em>'Til the bird on the wire flies me back to you<em>

_I'll just close my eyes, whisper baby blind love is true_

_I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses_  
><em>For tonight I'll sleep on a bed of nails<em>  
><em>I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost is<em>  
><em>And lay you down on a bed of roses<em>

_Well this hotel bar's hangover whiskey's gone dry_  
><em>The barkeeper's wig's crooked<em>  
><em>And she's giving me the eye<em>  
><em>Well I might have said yeah<em>  
><em>But I laughed so hard I think I died<em>

_Now as you close your eyes_  
><em>Know I'll be thinking about you<em>  
><em>While my mistress she calls me to stand in her spotlight again<em>  
><em>Tonight I won't be alone<em>  
><em>But you know that don't mean I'm not lonely<em>  
><em>I've got nothing to prove for it's you that I'd die to defend<em>

_I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses_  
><em>For tonight I'll sleep on a bed of nails<em>  
><em>I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost is<em>  
><em>And lay you down<em>

_I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses_  
><em>For tonight I'll sleep on a bed of nails<em>  
><em>I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost is<em>  
><em>And lay you down on a bed of roses<em>

As his fingers stilled over the keys and the last notes died away, he heard Bella's breath shudder. A tear drop spilled from her eye and slid slowly down her check. Mesmerized by the reminder of her humanity, he followed its path with his eyes briefly before lifting his finger to gently wipe it away. Just like his Bella, it was warm. She didn't flinch or start at his cold touch, but then, she never did. Unable to stop touching her, instead of pulling his hand away, Edward ran his fingers lightly along her jaw and down her neck. Her eyes closed slowly for a second, and she swallowed. He could feel the muscles in her throat working against his fingertips. When his Bella opened her eyes, she looked so deeply into his it felt like she was looking for his soul. Would she see that he no longer had one?

Edward realized her intentions as her body shifted toward his, but he couldn't make himself believe, couldn't let himself hope…. She couldn't possibly…. She just…. She _couldn't_….

Even as Bella slowly closed the space between them and her eyes fell shut again, this time remaining shut, Edward couldn't let himself believe….

The warmth of her breath floated against his lips two agonizingly long seconds before her lips did. She was _kissing_ him. She was, his mate was, his Bella was… _kissing_ him.

Her hand came up to his face and copied the path his had drawn a moment ago on her own before continuing back around his neck and finally up into his hair.

"Edward…." As she whispered his name, Bella's breath was sweet and warm and moist against his skin and made Edward feel like she was breathing life into him, like she was sharing her warmth, her very breath with him. After one last gentle kiss, just the lightest of touches of her lips against his, she lowered her hand and began to pull away.

The loss of her warmth was painful. For the first time, Edward felt the cold temperature of his own body and shivered as he was drawn to her helplessly, like a moth to a flame. Before she could move more than an inch away from him, Edward's hands came up, cradling her face and guiding her back to him.

Their lips met again with his instinctively taking control and hers submitting. Having been subjected to the experiences and fantasies of others over the decades no matter how much he'd tried to block them out had, or so Edward had believed, taught him what kissing was. But nothing could have prepared him for the real experience of it.

He felt Bella sigh and relax against him as her lips curved into a smile against his. There were no words to describe what this felt like. Their lips continued to move together, hers soft and warm, his hard and cold. She pulled a fraction of an inch away, and he felt her breathe as he moved to repeat the journey his fingers had made earlier with his mouth.

Bella ran her hands down his back, and Edward moaned against her jaw before dropping his head lightly to rest his forehead against her shoulder. He swallowed a mouthful of venom and tried to calm himself. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

She chuckled as she played with his hair. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

"No, I don't think you do." He raised his head to look at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes were dilated slightly, and her lips were swollen. His mate's lips were swollen from kissing him, and he carefully ran his finger along them in amazement. Bella caught the tip of his finger between her lips, and he moaned again. The sight made him think of things he couldn't risk thinking about with his very fragile Bella so close to him. He had to be so very, very careful. He shuddered as the reality of just how easily he could…. He couldn't let himself think about that. Not right now. Right now was the happiest moment of his existence, and he wouldn't let reality barge in and ruin it. He hadn't hurt her. They had shared their first kiss, and he hadn't hurt her. If the evidence of her pink tinged cheeks and her accelerated heart rate weren't enough to prove she'd enjoyed their first kisses just as much as he had, there was always her scent.

Her scent….

Her scent was not helping Edward to not think of things he couldn't risk thinking about. As badly as Edward wanted to stay right where they were, or better yet carry her up to his room and continue what they'd been doing with more privacy, where she could more be comfortable, where he could lay her down and…. He couldn't risk it. His Bella's safety was everything. He had been able to maintain control, but Edward was afraid of pushing himself too far too fast. Baby steps. He could do this, but he needed to take baby steps.

Struggling to calm himself, Edward leaned back a little and picked her hand up, smiling at how she immediately linked their fingers together. He pressed a kiss to the knuckle of her middle finger. "Want to put that movie in now?"

She smiled and nodded her head.

They walked back to the media room, and she sat down on the couch as he put the DVD in. "The first movie is the oldest. But it's from 1916, not 1917, like the cover shows." He paused and looked back at her. She took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. "It's called _Easy Street_," he continued to say. "It's Charlie Chaplin. It's about twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?"

"Nineteen, actually."

"They made movies that were only _nineteen minutes_ long? Why _bother_?" Edward couldn't help but laugh. "It would take longer to _get to_ the theater than it would to _watch_ the movie."

Edward was thrilled his Bella wanted to watch a silent movie with him. This was as close as he could get to sharing his past with her. They lived in her world together now, but in this small way, Edward could take her to his world. He could share with her the world the way it used to be, the way it had been when he'd been alive. The way it had been when he'd fallen in love with her the first time. "Going to the movies then was nothing like it is now."

"Obviously. Seriously, _nineteen minutes_?No wonder they only cost a nickel."

He laughed harder. "I think you're going back a little too far. By this time a movie was about a dime. Sometimes as much as a quarter for blockbusters, especially at the better theaters."

"_Blockbusters_?They had silent film _blockbusters_?"

"Of course. What, did you think big movies were exclusive to today?"

"Well…. Actually… yeah."

He sat down next to her, and she shifted closer to him after taking one of Esme's brownies off the tray. No doubt about it. He'd been dead wrong all this time. There was a heaven for vampires. And this was it. "Think about it. You have movies. But you've also got TV and the internet. All w— all _they_ had was movies. Can you imagine how important those movies were to people? They were almost magical."

"I never…. I never thought about it. I guess I just…. Movies are just so…. I mean, they're just movies. They're not that important. I guess we just take them for granted today. But if they were so important, why were they so short?"

"These are just shorts. There were full length movies too. Like today, the feature film was usually about two hours long, though some were longer. Going to the movies was a much bigger deal then. The theaters were spectacular. W— one could spend at least four hours or more at the theater. There would be previews and shorts. They also had newsreels. They had war bond promotional films during the war. They showed cartoons. And when the reels were being changed, the organist would lead the audience in a sing-along."

He could tell Bella was trying not to laugh.

"A _sing-along_?"

"Yes, a _sing-along_. You think that's funny?"

"Mhmm." Her shoulders were beginning to shake, and she was biting her lip trying to not laugh but was failing. Edward laughed with her. The sing-alongs had been silly, but they'd been fun.

As the movie began, Bella stopped laughing and starred at the screen quietly, obviously thinking about _other him_. It was difficult to see her hurting like this. _What did I ever do to deserve her? How could she possibly have come to care for me twice? _Edward ran his finger down her cheek and put his arm around her, "Hey, this is supposed to be a comedy."

She laughed sadly and leaned against him, resting her hand on his chest.

"This one is Charlie Chaplin," he explained. "He was amazing. A real international superstar. He was the Brad Pitt of the early 20th century."

The movie played, and he felt Bella chuckle quietly against him after Chaplin's 'The Tramp' character nearly fell down the steps after pulling the collection box out of his pants and giving it back to the preacher. "One of the best things about silent films is that you don't have to be quiet. People in the audience could talk to their friends during the movie since there was no dialog to interrupt." She smiled and curled closer to him. "Do you like it?"

"Mhmm." She laughed again when The Tramp hit a man over the head for laughing at him as he walked out of the police station in his new police uniform, unknowingly with his hat on backwards, knocking him out.

Before the second movie began, Carlisle passed through the room on his way upstairs, pretending to be going to lie down, and he again told Bella how glad they were that she was there.

Edward and Bella talked and laughed together as the other three movies played, but Bella had begun yawning shortly after the second movie—hardly surprising since he knew she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before with constantly being awoken every two hours—and just before the end of the last of the four movies, Edward felt her weight against him increase as her breathing evened out.

She was asleep. She, a human, had fallen asleep curled up next to him, a vampire. It was unbelievable, but it was true. In spite of every survival and self-preservation instinct she had—which should all have been screaming at her to stay away from him, telling her he was a threat, not safe—her trust in him was that absolute.

Concealed in the trees, he had listened to her sleep almost every night since she'd arrived, but this was the first time Edward had actually seen her asleep. She was breathtaking.

Wanting to make her as comfortable as possible, Edward carefully slid his arms around her back and under her knees to gently lift her and carry her upstairs. "Esme, Carlisle, help," he whispered softly.

Esme, who had been pretending to be busy in the kitchen, was at his side in a fraction of a second followed immediately by Carlisle. Having worked in hospitals for so long, mostly overnight, Carlisle was well accustomed to humans sleeping, but Esme was awestruck. "She's _asleep_," she gasped in amazement. Sleep was something they envied humans. Not being able to sleep themselves, it fascinated them. Of course, they all knew they had slept as humans themselves, but human memories faded after being changed, and by its very nature sleeping wasn't something they remembered clearly enough to actually understand it.

Edward, being able to hear humans' dreams, both understood it the most and was the most confused by it. Some dreams made sense. He could understand the reason behind the illogical images or recurrent themes. But others…. Others defied explanation.

The first night he'd sat in the trees behind her house, he had hoped that once she'd fallen asleep, he would hear her dreams, but he hadn't. His Bella was as silent to him asleep as she was awake.

"I'm going to lay her down on the couch in my room, but I don't have any pillows or blankets." Esme and Carlisle ran up the stairs in front of him, and by the time he got to his room, his black leather sofa was transformed. There were thousand-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets carefully tucked in around the cushions, soft and fluffy feather pillows, and a light goose down blanket. His sofa now looked like a daybed in a five-star resort. The mementos of his human life which Bella would surely notice and recognize were gone, most notably the painting she'd sent him of his family's picnic and the team picture of the 2005 World Series Champion White Sox she'd given him for his 108th birthday.

Edward gently laid her down and pulled the blanket over her. Bella sighed softly as she settled into the thick pillows. Mesmerized watching her, it was a full minute before he noticed the new scent in his room: lavender and vanilla, courtesy of Esme, no doubt. Appreciating the thought, Edward quietly thanked her.

Watching Bella sleep was incredible. He could stare at her endlessly without fear of being caught. He could whisper to her how much he loved her over and over. He could listen to her breath and to her heartbeat. He could memorize every single detail about her, the curve of her jaw, the arch of her eyebrow, the relaxed curve of her fingers, the way her hair fanned out behind her on her pillow. Watching her sleep was like a drug, and he was very quickly addicted.

Humming softly to her, the beginnings of a new melody began to write itself in Edward's mind. It had been so long, far too long, since he had composed anything. The new song, a lullaby, Bella's lullaby, formed itself and played through his mind, and he could hear both Esme's and Carlisle's elated thoughts as he continued to hum to her. He had once so enjoyed composing, and now, as a dozen other new melodies began to vie for attention in his mind, all inspired by the angel who trusted a monster so fully as to allow herself to fall asleep curled up next to him, Edward wondered why he had ever stopped. But then, he rationalized, he'd never before had a muse like the sleeping girl in front of him.

After a short while, Bella drifted into REM sleep, and he watched in fascination as her eyes began to dance behind their closed lids. Her cheeks tinged pink and her mouth fell open slightly as her heart rate and breathing increased. Noticing the unmistakable change in her scent, both Esme and Carlisle discreetly excused themselves for a quick hunt. Edward knew he should leave as well. A gentleman would leave. But he was paralyzed. He could not have moved from that spot under almost any circumstances. Images of himself and Bella filled his mind, and he pressed the palm of his hand against his painfully hard erection, desperate for release. His mate's heart rate and breathing continued to increase as she dreamed until her scent escalated and she gasped in her sleep before sighing and smiling as she whispered his name.

That was all it took, and Edward bit into his own hand trying to muffle his moan as he followed her to his own climax.

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_Hmmmm… Edward…._ As usual, the last of her dream slipped away like water through her fingers. Bella sighed in contentment as she began to wake up, no longer feeling nothing but emptiness after dreaming of Edward. He was no longer solely a part of her dreams, he was once again part of her reality. The thought made her smile. They were together again. Really together this time. She had so desperately wanted to be able to touch him, hold him, and now she could. He was really here. She didn't know or care how, but he was here. That was all that mattered. He was here. "_Some things are not meant to be understood, just accepted." _Wasn't that what he had once told her?

A soft humming was guiding her back toward the real world, and sleep was falling further and further away. As Bella woke up more fully, her mind cleared and she sighed again. She had been wrong. In her sleep confused mind, she had combined Edward Masen and Edward Cullen into one person. Edward Masen wasn't here with her; Edward Cullen was.

The soft humming faded away, taking the last remnants of sleep away with it, and she sat up in her bed rubbing her eyes. Looking around, Bella was confused for a moment. She wasn't in her bed, this wasn't her room, and she had no idea where she was. She was on a black leather couch made up into a bed. The room had two full walls of windows overlooking a backyard that stretched all the way to the Sol Duc River in the distance. The yard looked like it belonged at a resort. Beyond the forest, the Olympic Mountain Range was barely visible through the gloom of clouds and rain.

A soft knock sounded on the door and she looked over her shoulder just as Edward cracked the door an inch or two and peeked in, "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Bella's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his smile as she remembered kissing those lips.

_I can't believe _I _really did that. What came over me? I never even thought about it, I just did it. _

At first, she'd panicked when Edward hadn't kissed her back, afraid she'd ruined everything, but then he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her like…. _Like he was drowning and I was air. _She blushed just thinking about that kiss and smiled up at him. That was _the_ first kiss. _The best _first kiss in the history of first kisses.

And then she'd fallen asleep. Perfect.

_God, what must he think of me? Who falls asleep_ _after a kiss like that? _

And while watching movies he'd just told her he liked so much. Absolutely perfect.

"Bella? Are you all right? Do you feel OK? Is it your head? Does it hurt? Do you need Carlisle?"

"No. No, really, I'm fine. Edward, I'm so sorry."

Coming into the room, Edward knelt down next to her; he looked stricken, and she immediately felt guiltier. "What could you possibly be sorry about?" he asked.

"For falling asleep like that. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you fell asleep? What in heaven's name for?" He looked both confused and amused. "You were tired, and you fell asleep." As if to prove him right she yawned deeply, and he chuckled. "Bella, you have a concussion. Fatigue is perfectly normal. That's why Carlisle wanted you to stay home at least today, if not tomorrow as well."

She did feel tired. As annoyed as Bella was at not being allowed to go to school—by now every kid at Fork High School would know she'd ended up in the emergency room last night—she was glad she was home.

Well, Edward's home.

She was very, very glad she was at Edward's home.

"Are you hungry? It's almost noon. Would you like some lunch?"

"After all that food your mom brought out? Are you kidding?"

She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked around the room again. The wall opposite the window was covered with shelves of CD's to rival the movie collection downstairs, and a shelf the length of the room filled with old, vintage records ran along the floor. There was a very state of the art looking sound system and beneath that a… "What is that? Is that a…." Bella stood up and crossed the room, unable to believe what she was seeing. "Is that a_…_ _phonograph_?"

"Um.… Yes."

She looked back at Edward, who was rubbing the back of his neck again. His eyes were squeezed shut. She turned back at the antique phonograph and knelt down in front of it. It was made of a dark wood with hand-painted pink roses and matte-finished silver-toned hardware. The lid was propped open, and there was a record on the turntable with a large, heavy-looking arm positioned as if it was about to be played. "Does it work?"

Edward didn't answer out loud but she saw him nod his head as he came over to her.

"I thought they had huge horns the music came out of?" she asked.

Reaching past her, Edward opened the lower doors of the walnut cabinet to reveal the phonograph's horn. Bella looked over the antique phonograph again. A small metal label was affixed to the wood just to the right of the arm which identified the phonograph as a Victrola from the Victor Talking Machine Co. in Camden, New Jersey. There were what Bella guessed to be model and serial numbers, but there was no date. "It's really beautiful." Bella looked closer at the record. Her heart thudded painfully, and her stomach fell to her feet. She closed her eyes and swallowed twice.

"Debussy."

Edward's voice was soft, barely a whisper, but he might as well have screamed. "He was a favorite of my mother's."

_Of course he was. _Tears threatened, but she forced them back. There were just too many coincidences, too many similarities. It just wasn't possible for there to be so many coincidences. Bella bit her lip, trying to make sense of coincidences that kept building up.

It was difficult to speak; her throat was too tight. "Do you believe in reincarnation?" she asked.

Bella forced herself to look up at Edward. His face looked pained as he shook his head and said, "No."

"Ghosts? Mediums?"

"No."

"You don't believe in the supernatural? That there are things that happen that can't be explained?"

"Oh, no. That, I believe."

There was something about Edward's answer, not _what_ he said but _how_ he said it. There was something behind his words that sounded like longing, like deep regret and overwhelming gratitude at the same time. Bella was still thinking about it when he turned a handle on the side of the phonograph several times and carefully lowered the needle to the antique record. It played beautifully. Even with the age of both the machine and the record, the sound was nearly perfect. Both could have been brand new, their condition was so good.

Edward smiled hesitantly and reached his hand toward her. "Will you honor me with this dance, Miss Swan?"

Bella's breath left her, and she forgot she couldn't dance as she remembered a dream from nearly a year ago. He wasn't waiting for her at the bottom of a grand staircase; he was wearing jeans and a sweater, not a black tailcoat—_are those the same jeans he was wearing earlier?_ she asked herself—and his eyes were a rich amber brown, not green, but just like in her dream the moment she placed her hand in his, everything else faded away until there was nothing and no one but the two of them. It didn't matter that she couldn't dance; he could, and he led her effortlessly around the room. Together they danced until the music stopped and Edward pressed his hand against her lower back, asking, "Ready?"

"For what?"

"Hold on tight," Edward instructed.

"AHHH!" Bella squealed and laughed, tightening her arms around Edward as he dipped her backward. He traced the tip of his nose down her neck and she could feel his cool breath against her skin as he pressed a kiss just above her collarbone. He whispered something into her skin, but she couldn't understand what he'd said. Before she could ask what he'd said, Edward was kissing her again, and all thought left her mind.

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How was that for a little Edward/Bella bonding time? If you liked this chapter - you just wait until the next one!

The DVD Bella and Edward watch together is "Slapstick Masters." It is available on Amazon, and I think the shorts are also on Netflix. I watched _One Week_ on You Tube. Some sites show _Easy Street_ as being from 1916 while others show 1917, and I have no idea which is right. _One Week_ is from 1920, _Chasing Choo Choos_ is from 1927, and _Big Business_ is from 1929.

The songs Edward sings Bella are _Secrets_ from One Republic and _Bed of Roses_ from Bon Jovi. (For those of you who don't know, way back when in yonder days before cell phones, payphones used to cost a dime.)

Drop me a note and tell me what you thought!


	33. Chapter 33

Gaaahh! I give up! I can't stand it anymore! I can't wait 'til Saturday, here you go! Enjoy!

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As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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February 21, 2010. The date on the calendar was blurred by her tears, but it stared back at Bella unflinchingly. One year ago today, Michael Masen gave her their desk. One year ago today, the impossible happened. One year ago today, she found a ninety-one-year-old letter, and her incredible friendship with Edward Masen began, and over the following four months, they fell in love.

Bella was glad it was a Sunday; she didn't want to have to do anything today. Edward had asked her to spend the day with him, but she couldn't. Not today. She loved him, but today belonged to Edward Masen, not Edward Cullen.

Sitting slumped forward at the kitchen table with an untouched plate of blueberry pancakes in front of her, Bella stared at the calendar on the wall until Tanya walked in, and she quickly wiped her eyes before the older woman could see her tears.

"Bella? You haven't touched your breakfast. Oh, I forgot the peanut butter."

Startled out of her near trance-like state as Tanya set a jar of peanut butter in front of her, Bella gaped at her. _Peanut butter and blueberries?_ Bella's back straightened, and her eyes widened.

Between her happiness over her new relationship with Edward and dreading the anniversary of finding Edward Masen's first letter, she hadn't thought at all about it, but it was right about this time last year that her mother had told her that she and Phil were getting married. At first, Bella had worried that her mother had been about to tell her she was pregnant.

Bella's eyes drifted—subtly, she hoped—to Tanya's stomach as she sat down across the table. _Could Tanya and my dad.… It's not exactly pickles and ice cream, but I think peanut butter and blueberries qualifies as an odd craving._

Bella bit her lip and forced back a smile. That would be wonderful. Tanya was good for her dad; there was no doubt about that. Because of the divorce, Bella and her dad had never been as close as they should have been, but she was sure he had never been this happy that she could remember. _Even these past few days, he's seemed especially happy. Sometimes he looks at me and just looks… _happy_. Is this why? A new baby? A brother or a sister? I think a brother. Dad would like a son, I think. And today, of all days._

Bella ate a few small bites of food before pushing her plate away. She was too excited to eat.

Tanya looked at her in concern. "Bella? Is everything OK?"

Bella stood up and took her plate to the fridge after wrapping it in plastic. "I'm fine. I'm just not very hungry right now. I'll nuke them later." She sat back down and leaned across the table smiling like the cat that got the canary. "How about you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine?" In her confusion over Bella's sudden mood swing, Tanya's words came out as a question.

"Are you sure? Not tired? Nauseous at all?"

Tanya shook her head slowly. "No."

"Are you sure? Why don't you take it easy today, and I'll make dinner. You do too much. I can cook and clean up around here too. You go rest. Take a nap."

"It's ten in the morning."

"Well… just put your feet up. Watch TV." Bella was so excited, she couldn't sit still. _A new baby. And today, of all days._ She began to dig through the freezer, deciding what to thaw for dinner. _What do pregnant women need?_ She had no idea. "I'm going to go look up some recipes." Before Tanya could say another word, Bella had run back up to her room to her laptop. _Oh, this is so exciting. _Turning her laptop on, she Googled "diet for a healthy pregnancy." Seeing the word "Google," Bella remembered how Edward had thought it was an odd word, and she laughed, talking to herself. "Guess what, Edward. I think I'm going to be a big sister."

A sudden crash came from the kitchen, and Bella ran back downstairs.

"Tanya! Are you OK?"

Bella found Tanya still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with one hand on her stomach and the other over her mouth. A broken ceramic bowl lay in pieces on the ground by her feet. She looked like she was about to be sick.

"Shhh. It's OK. It's OK. Give me your hand. Let's get you away from all the broken ceramic.

Bella took Tanya's limp arm as she lowered her hand from her mouth. As she guided her back to the table, Bella worried. Tanya didn't look well at all; if possible, she looked ever paler than normal. Tanya sat down wordlessly and looked up at her.

"Are you going to be OK for a few minutes while I sweep up?" Bella asked.

Tanya nodded her head mutely before looking away and closing her eyes. Bella finished sweeping the floor and was just dumping the pieces into the garbage when there was a knock at the door.

Tanya tried to speak, "Bella… I'm not…. I can't…."

"Shh. You don't have to do anything. You just sit there, and I'll get it and get rid of whoever it is." Bella hurried to the door ready to tell whoever it was that they weren't interested in whatever they were trying to sell. The words were already forming on her tongue as she opened the door, but they never got any further.

"Edward!"

"Bella, I'm sorry. I know you said you had things to do today, but I had to see you for a few minutes."

"No, no, no. It's OK, come in. Hurry. Come in."

Bella's face split into a huge smile, and she grabbed Edward by the arm, pulling him into the house. He had a shopping bag in his hand, which she took from him and set on the coffee table as she dragged him over to the corner of the living room farthest from the kitchen. She looked past him toward the kitchen before whispering, "I think I know a secret. I think Tanya's pregnant. I don't know for sure, but she gave me _peanut butter _to put on _blueberry _pancakes. I mean, _peanut butter and blueberries_? How's that for an odd craving? She doesn't _look_ pregnant at all, I mean she's not showing at all, but maybe it's too early for that, and I think sometimes some women just show later. But she does sort of _glow_, doesn't she? Don't they say pregnant women glow? Edward? What is it? What's wrong?"

In her excitement, Bella hadn't realized it right away, but Edward looked uneasy, and fear began to creep in. _It would be a good thing if Tanya was pregnant, wouldn't it? I mean, her health problems, there's no reason why she _shouldn't _get pregnant… is there?_

Edward looked back and forth between her and the kitchen before looking back toward the front door and taking her hand. "Let's sit on the porch."

The fear began to grow. If Edward didn't want to talk where Tanya might overhear, there was no way what he had to say could be good. She followed him to the door and waited for him to start. He looked back at the house sadly before he spoke. "Bella, Tanya's not pregnant." He paused for a moment, and Bella waited for him to continue as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. When he did continue, his voice was barely a whisper, but the regret in it screamed at her. "She can't have children. None of us can."

Bella was crushed. It had only been a suspicion, and she'd only suspected it for a few minutes, but in that short time she had already begun to feel like a big sister. It surprised her how very disappointed she was to lose something that was never even there.

"Oh," she sighed.

"Bella? Sweetheart, are you OK?"

She nodded her head, but she couldn't understand it; the loss felt deeper than she thought it should.

Edward stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. She laid her head against his chest, and he started humming the same song she'd heard at his house the other day.

"That's a pretty song. Is it Debussy too?"

He hesitated before answering, "No."

Bella sighed as Edward traced circles on her back. He kissed the top of her head again, whispering into her hair, "I brought you something."

"You did?"

"Mhmm. Sort of a belated Valentine's Day-slash-anniversary present."

Bella stiffened in his arms. Her stomach dropped to her feet, and her heart jumped to her throat. "An ann…. An anni…. An… _anniversary_ present?"

"Mhmm. It's the five-day anniversary of our first kiss." He gently squeezed her hand and led her back into the house.

Tanya was nowhere to be seen, but Bella didn't pay it any thought. "You bought me a present for the five-day anniversary of our first kiss?" she asked.

He was unbelievable. A five-day-anniversary-of-their-first-kiss present. Who does that?

"Oh, um… well, no. Actually, I bought it a long time ago, but I thought you'd like it. I promise, when I bought it, it only cost a couple dollars. And it's a belated Valentine's Day present too, since we were two days too late." Edward kissed the back of her hand before letting it go and handing her the bag.

Normally, it always made Bella uncomfortable when someone gave her a gift, and she was relieved he hadn't gone out and bought something when she couldn't afford to reciprocate. She took the bag from him—it was a little heavier than she expected—and said, "You're wrong, though. It's not five days since our first kiss. It's six."

"Six?"

"Mhmm, you kissed me in the hospital Monday night. On the forehead."

"You remember that?"

Bella resisted rolling her eyes. Did she remember that? Seriously? Boys…. You bet your butt she remembered that.

"Mhmm."

As she sat down and pulled his gift from the bag, Edward looked suddenly uncomfortable and had trouble meeting her eyes. "I didn't think you remembered anything from that night," he said, looking down at his shoes.

"Very little. Just bits and pieces. It's… jumbled. Confused. But I definitely remember you kissed me on the forehead." Edward sat next to her and looked at her so intently it took her breath away, and she had to look away for a moment before she could continue. "It was my first kiss."

Bella heard him exhale, and he put two fingers under her chin, lifting her face toward his to repeat the kiss. He pressed his cold lips to her forehead. "Mine too, my sweet Bella, mine too."

His lips slowly covered her face, her temple, her eye lids, her ear, her jaw. Every time she moved, trying to capture his lips with her own, Bella felt his breath cold against her skin as he laughed softly and evaded her. How many times had she dreamed of exactly this?

Finally, having had enough teasing, Bella surprised them both by climbing onto Edward's lap—just as she had pictured herself doing the other day—and putting her hands on his face, holding him still as she covered his lips with hers. She felt his moan as his hands held her hips before slowly, hesitatingly sliding up her sides, his thumbs just barely missing brushing against the side of her breasts.

Edward's lips were cool and sweet, and she traced the tip of her tongue along his lower lip wanting to taste him, wanting to taste his mouth.

She hadn't wanted to see him today, but now that he was here and kissing her again, she knew she needed him here today. She didn't want to be alone. She'd wasted what precious little time she'd had with Edward Masen last year. She'd lost her chance to tell him she loved him, and he'd died never knowing. She didn't intend to waste a single second with Edward.

Feeling him beneath her, holding each other, Bella felt an almost unbearable need to never let him leave—never. Every cell in her body, every thought in her mind, and every beat of her heart was telling her to grab him and run, to run away with him and never let go.

So fast Bella that barely had time to realize he'd moved, Edward flipped their positions, and she was on the couch on her back with him above her. Dear God, she could feel him—_all_ of him. Feeling him, knowing he was reacting to her, that she affected him like that was intoxicating.

She dragged her nails down his back and heard his moan; she could feel the vibration of his body as the sound coursed through him.

Then, faster than she could believe possible, it was over, and Edward was on the other side of the room with his arms wrapped around himself, doubled over, his face a mask of pain.

"Edward!"

What was wrong? Had she done something wrong? Had she…. She hadn't, oh God…. She hadn't… moved wrong somehow and… hurt him… _there_…. Had she?

Heart pounding and out of breath both from what they had been doing—maybe what they had been about to do—and worry over why he seemed to be in such pain so suddenly, Bella watched helplessly as fear and guilt and racked her. She was growing more and more concerned as the seconds passed and turned to minutes before Edward spoke, but his words only confused her even more.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I don't…. Please forgive me. I had no right…. Please believe me, I would never…." He couldn't speak more than a few words at a time, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the floor.

_He's apologizing? For what? _

Edward looked like a frightened, caged animal, ready to run at any sudden movement.

_Does he regret…?_

No. Edward looked full of regret, but she didn't think he regretted their kiss—it wasn't that. It wasn't that exactly anyway; it was something else, something more. Everything she'd learned about Edward over the last roughly two months ran through her mind, from the way he'd always pulled her chair out for her, to the way he'd always opened doors for her, to the way he'd always helped her on with her coat. Even the way he spoke, the words and expressions he sometimes used—proper, formal, refined, old-fashioned. She'd never even heard him swear. If someone asked her to describe Edward in one word that word would be _gentleman_.

Bella smiled. Getting up and crossing the room slowly she knelt down in front of him. "Edward—"

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He looked like swallowing was painful.

"Edward, please look at me."

When his tawny eyes met hers, the pain and fear in them was obvious. Seeing Edward so vulnerable took her breath away, and she said, "I love you."

Her words hung heavily in the air. She'd said them without a second thought, and the ease with which they'd slipped from her lips surprised her. She'd meant them; she just hadn't planned on saying them so soon for fear of freaking him out and scaring him off. But now that they were out there, Bella couldn't bring herself to regret it. She'd wasted her chance to say those words once before, and she had no intention of wasting this, her second chance. Whatever happened, whatever his reaction, good or bad—_God, let it be good. Please, please let it be good—_she'd told him, and he knew. Whatever happened now, whatever he did now, at least he knew she loved him.

Edward's eyes widened as he sucked in a breath and his mouth fell open barely a fraction of an inch before he closed it and swallowed again—and again, it looked painful. Other than that, he didn't move, not even an inch. Nor did he blink. Bella didn't even think he'd even exhaled.

Seconds passed, and still Edward didn't move. He was so perfectly still, he could've been carved from stone.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he dropped to his knees in front of her and raised his hands to her face. Gently, he guided her back to him and pressed his lips softly against her forehead, in a reenactment of their first kiss, and whispered against her skin, "My sweetest, dearest Bella. I love you, too. I always have. I always will."

Absolute happiness filled her. It was several seconds before Bella could move, before she could breathe, and longer still before she could speak. Unable to make a sound, she threw her arms around him and smiled into his neck as she held him as tightly as she could.

The urge, the instinct to grab him and run was stronger than before. It was so strong, Bella had to fight against it.

Nothing made a person look crazier than stealing someone away and locking them up.

Bella kissed her way up his neck and found his mouth, thrilled at the now familiar taste of him.

Desperate to really taste him, she ran the tip of her tongue over his lips, wanting to deepen their kiss, but Edward moved and kissed along her jaw and back to her ear. A shiver ran all the way through her to her toes when Edward traced the rim of her ear with his tongue before blowing cool air against it.

She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt in her hands as she heard herself moan, unsure if it was out loud or in her head until she felt him smile against the skin behind her ear.

"Like that?" Edward asked.

"Oh, God, yes." The deep, husky sound of her voice surprised her. She had no idea her voice could sound like that.

Bella felt Edward's smile widen. He renewed his attention to her ear before moving down her neck and back to her jaw. Never could she have imagined the intimacy of feeling someone smile, feeling their breath against her skin as they spoke.

"As much as I would love to continue, I am afraid we have to stop."

_Stop? STOP? Why? No. Stopping is bad. Kissing is good. Kissing is very, very good. Stopping kissing is bad. _

Hoping to dissuade him, Bella continued to kiss her way down Edward's neck. Kissing his lips was the most amazing thing in the world, but kissing his neck was a very close second. "I don't want to stop."

Having no experience of her own as to what boys liked, she imitated his actions from a moment ago by alternately kissing and running her tongue along his skin before blowing gently on it. _Let him see how _that _feels. _

Edward's body shuddered in her arms. "Believe me, I don't want to stop either, but your father will be home any moment."

"Oh." Bella sighed deeply and sat back. Tuesday evening, after driving her home from his house, Edward had formally asked her father for his permission to date his daughter. Bella thought her father had seemed happier than she ever thought a father could be when his teenage daughter got her first boyfriend. However, that didn't mean he would appreciate walking in on…. Right. Stopping wasn't good, but sometimes it was necessary.

"And you still haven't opened your present," Edward reminded her.

The only present she wanted to unwrap had his arms around her and was doing that tracing circles thing on her back thing again.

"Hmm?"

"Your present. The anniversary present I brought you. You still haven't opened it."

"Mmmm Hmmm."

Bella leaned against him and rested her head against his shoulder, her forehead against his neck. "If you want me to be able to think straight, you're going to have to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

Bella chuckled and copied the patterns he was tracing against her back. "This."

She felt his breath catch momentarily, before he sighed. "Didn't realize I was doing anything."

She traced the words "I love you" on his back, and he whispered into her hair, "Sweet Bella, I love you, too. But your father is about two blocks away. And he has company. Jacob and Mr. Black."

If that wasn't like having a bucket of ice water dumped on you, nothing was. The tone of Edward's voice had changed dramatically when he'd said Jacob's and his father's names—it had been animalistic, almost a growl.

It was vague and foggy, but Bella suddenly remembered Edward and Jacob both kneeling down next to her Monday before the paramedics had arrived. She couldn't imagine why they'd both been there. She wanted to ask Edward what had happened, why they'd both been there, but there was a tension in his face that wasn't there earlier, and she knew this wasn't a good time.

As he stood up, Edward reached his hand down to her to help her up, and they sat down on the couch together just as Bella heard her father pull up in front of the house.

Edward handed her the shopping bag he'd brought, and she pulled out a heavy purple gift bag stuffed with pale blue tissue paper. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. I've never had a girlfriend to give presents to before. Indulge me. I've got a lot of time to make up for."

Elated at hearing Edward call her his girlfriend for the first time, Bella grinned widely, mentally jumping for joy.

Outside, a car door slammed shut with such force that Bella jumped as she pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, revealing a book, but the moment her eyes fell on the cover of the book held in her hands, all else was forgotten.

This was too much.

This was just one thing too many.

Bella closed her eyes and turned her head away.

"You don't like it," Edward said, the disappointment in his voice added fuel to the burning pain inside her, and Bella shook her head; words failed her. Tears were trying to force themselves past her closed eyelids, but she wouldn't let them fall.

_This… THIS is his_ _present, his _anniversary_ present…. There is just _no way _there can be this many coincidences. _Something _is going on. _

Bella didn't know what that something was, but she was sure as hell going to find out. She forced herself to speak, "No. I love it. Thank you."

Her father came in, followed by Jacob and his father. It was very quiet.

Bella was sure she would have missed it had the room not been so completely silent, but there was a muffled growl. No, not one. Two. Two simultaneous growls. One from Jacob. One from Edward. With her eyes locked on Jacob's face, taking in the barely restrained fury and knowing without having to look that a matching look of pure loathing would be on Edward's beautiful face, Bella reached her hand toward Edward, seeking his. Finding it easily, she wrapped her small, warm hand around his larger, cold one. Unsurprisingly, it was balled in a tight fist. She squeezed his hand gently in an attempt at reassurance that they were together in whatever was happening.

Reassurance for who, for Edward or for her, she had no idea.

_Normal. Act normal. It's a normal Sunday just like any other. You're at home, and your boyfriend is visiting. Tanya is here. Perfectly normal. Your father and his friends were fishing, but they're back early. Ask him why. The normal thing to do is ask him why they're back early. _

But the question was easier thought than asked, and it was only with great effort that Bella eventually forced the words passed the tightness in her throat. Briefly, she thought to herself that she was like an actress getting instructions from her director on how he wanted a scene played. Except the director was herself, and the scene she was acting wasn't in a play; it was in her living room, and it was real.

The question had been addressed to all three of them, but it was her father who answered. "Fish just weren't biting. Thought we'd come back and catch the game."

Bella wasn't sure Billy or Jacob were capable of speaking right now by how angry they looked, but Billy's face also held fear that was missing from Jacob's, which was covered with pure, primal fury. Their expressions reminded her of their camping trip last summer when the three men had returned from fishing that first day, and she cataloged that fact away to think about later. She couldn't see how it fit in the puzzle though, because none of the Cullens had even been there that day.

Determined to figure out what was being hidden from her, and being hidden very poorly she could see now that she was looking, Bella had already begun a mental list of all the strange things that she'd seen since arriving in Forks in January. She thought of everything on her list as a piece of a puzzle, hoping to put them all together in the right order to get to the final picture. Everything was on her list—from the Cullens' medical problems and their frequent absences from school, to the impossible demonstrations of strength, not only first from Edward and his brother when they moved their desk to her room, but also multiple times from Jacob and his friends.

Holding Edward's hand, Bella questioned not only the cold temperature of his skin but the odd feel of it. _No pun intended, but he's hard_. _His _skin _is _hard_. _ Her eyes roamed from their clasped hands to Jacob sitting opposite them. _Edward is always cold. His whole family is. Jacob and his friends are always hot, like they have a fever. Not everyone, though. Billy's not. Emily's not. They even dress like it's hot out—cut off shorts and no shirts. Even Leah Clearwater has started with the cut offs and tank tops. Even when it's only in the thirties and raining buckets, they're dressed like… like kids do in Phoenix. In August. _

Her eyes left Jacob and moved to her father. With a jolt, Bella realized that, just like her, her father was acting a part—he was every bit as tense as she was, as they all were. She also realized something else. He had stepped away from Billy and Jacob and gone straight to Tanya—returned from wherever she had disappeared to earlier—as soon as he'd entered the house. It had seem like a normal, natural thing to do, just a man going to his girlfriend, to the woman he loved. Except now that she acknowledged what had been fighting to make itself known, that there was more going on than met the eye, Bella saw the action had been more than just that. It was a man _protecting_ the woman he loved. He wasn't just standing _with_ her, he was standing _in front _of her. He had taken up a defensive position. He had positioned himself between Tanya and a potential threat. _But Billy and Jacob? It's ridiculous. What threat could they possibly be? He and Billy have been best friends forever, and the man is in a wheelchair. _Bella's eyes were still fixed on Jacob, but his eyes didn't meet hers; they were looking straight at Edward, and the expression, 'If looks could kill,' occurred to her. Billy wasn't the threat, at least not in a physical sense. Jacob was. And Tanya wasn't the target.

_Edward is._

Bella's hand tightened on his as she recognized that Edward had seated himself between her and the door. Just as her father had done with Tanya, Edward had put himself in between her and Jacob, between the one he loved and the threat.

_No, not just the threat. The enemy. _

There was no doubt about it. It was clear her friend and her boyfriend saw each other as nothing but bitterest of enemies and always would. It was too deeply engrained in them, too much a part of themselves and who they were.

It was equally clear where she sat.

Bella felt a terrible sense of foreboding and loss. How could she possibly hope to keep her friendship with Jacob when she knew how he spoke of Edward and his family? Should she even try? Edward held his tongue better, but she knew the feelings were completely mutual. What would she do if he told her he didn't want her talking to Jacob or spending time with him or her other friends on the rez anymore? She'd never thought of herself as the kind of person who would stop being friends with someone because her boyfriend told her to, but… if those friends were constantly insulting and badmouthing both him and his entire family, and not just amongst themselves but all over town….

Didn't that make a difference?

If their positions were reversed, would she want Edward being friends with people who spoke about her and her family like that?

She couldn't imagine what could cause the two sides to hate each other so vehemently, but Bella was sure it was not just the "a misunderstanding generations ago" story she got anytime she asked Edward or Alice. Whatever the reason was, it was something big and it ran deep. And whatever the reason was, it was a very valid one; both side's behaviors acknowledged that.

Did that make a difference?

And she thought even the Cullens saw the Quileutes as the injured party. _Is _that _the reason Edward puts up with it? Does he think the tribe is somehow justified? _ Bella couldn't imagine any of the Cullens ever doing something to deserve that level of pure and unanimous hatred from such a large group of people. _Someone somehow associated with them maybe? But the feelings are definitely mutual. The Cullens hate Jacob and his friends every bit as much as they are hated by them._ Looking at Edward, that matching hatred was written all over his face. _They just don't verbalize it._

Again, Bella remembered Edward and Jacob both kneeling next to her before the paramedics arrived. _On Monday they, well, not got along, but they'd tolerated each other at least. When they were both worried about _me_, they'd tolerated each other. Their worry for me was greater than their hatred for each other. _

Beneath hers, Bella could feel the muscles in Edward's cold hand moving slightly, and she squeezed his hand again, tighter this time. This was going to be a long day.

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Bella had been right; although the afternoon had been short, with the tension and animosity, it had felt like forever. Edward hadn't left her side once. Jacob had sat opposite them and hadn't moved from the spot.

Not. Once.

Neither ever got up to get something to eat or drink or even to use the bathroom. She was sure neither even knew the outcome of the game. _Probably not even who was playing. For that matter, possibly not even what sport had been on._

Then, when Billy and Jacob had finally left, Jacob hadn't even said good bye, hadn't acknowledged her at all.

_Maybe whether we can stay friends won't be up to me. _

Although the thought hurt, Bella knew that if it came down to it, down to either Edward or Jacob, there was no choice. Losing Jacob would hurt, but losing Edward…. She'd already lost one Edward, and she saw now how it had almost destroyed her. The level of depression she'd sunk into was dangerous and had almost gotten her committed. She couldn't lose Edward. It had been so hard fighting her way back to a healthy place; Bella didn't fool herself into thinking she was strong enough to do it a second time.

Alone in her room, Bella sat down at their desk with Edward's gift and Edward Masen's letters. This was the first time she'd ever actually had a sample of Edward Cullen's handwriting she could compare directly to Edward Masen's. As she'd already known it would after seeing it nearly every day both last year and now, the handwriting on the note Edward had written inside the front cover of the book matched the handwriting on Edward Masen's letters nearly exactly. And she didn't just make a casual comparison—she carefully examined the shape and the curves of each letter from one handwriting to the other. Edward Cullen's handwriting was a more perfect version of Edward Masen's. The shape of the letters in Edward Masen's handwriting varied slightly from word to word and one letter to the next, as was normal, but the letters in Edward Cullen's handwriting were exact replicas of each other, so perfect they could've been printed off a computer. _It almost looks like someone created a computer font based on Edward's handwriting. _

Bella set the letters aside and looked at the book. _'The Mysterious Affair at Styles.' Edward's anniversary present, on the anniversary of my finding Edward Masen's first letter, was one of the books I told him about. _

The book was hardcover and obviously very old. _He said he bought it a long time ago for a couple bucks. It must've been a used book sale. Not at a library, it's in much too good of a condition to have passed through that many hands. Maybe something like an estate sale? Some old lady's family sold off her things after she died. Maybe while they lived in Alaska?_

Bella looked at the front cover. It was rather dark and depicted a man in red pajamas holding a candle while two women huddled off to the side and another man bent over something, possibly a desk. A headboard was visible in the bottom right corner, and there were shadowy images of other people behind the two women. It was a far cry from the used paperback with the front cover duct taped back on that she'd bought as part of a lot of damaged books from a used book sale at her local library back in Phoenix.

The inside flap of the dust cover had a small blurb.

"This novel was originally written as the result of a bet that the author, who had previously never written a book, could not compose a detective novel in which the reader would not be able to 'spot' the murderer, although having access to the same clues as the detective. The author has certainly won her bet, and in addition to a most ingenious plot of the best detective type she has introduced a new type of detective in the shape of a Belgian. This novel has had the unique distinction for a first book of being accepted by the _Times_ as a serial for its weekly edition."

_Agatha Christie's career was started as the result of a bet? _Bella closed the book and looked at the cover again. _The picture on the cover has a very old feel about it, but the book is in such good condition it might just have been bought brand new, read once, and put on a shelf. _

Wondering just how old the book really was, Bella flipped through the first couple pages until she found the publishing information, and she gasped, unable to believe what she was seeing. She closed the book, closed her eyes, and inhaled before looking again. She had not been mistaken.

"John Lane Company New York 1920. First Edition."

In her hands, she was holding a first edition of the first book Agatha Christie ever wrote—in perfect condition and with its dust jacket.

_Edward said he bought it for a couple bucks. Talk about getting a good deal! This book is probably worth thousands. Old Lady Alaska's great grandchildren really should've found out what they had and how much it was worth before selling it for a couple dollars just to get rid of it._

Bella smiled.

_Edward will flip when I tell him tomorrow in school! Oh, God! He _wrote _in it! He'll die. I can't take it to school. It's worth way too much. I'd find a way to wreck it somehow, trip and drop it in the mud or something. He can come here and get it. Even after he wrote in it, it's still got to be worth a ton of money. _

Bella was still reeling over Edward's incredible luck when her cell phone rang. Still laughing, she answered it.

"Bella? I'm glad to hear you so happy. How are you? I hope it's not too late to call, but I have great news."

It was Michael Masen, and he was obviously very excited. She'd kept in touch with Edward's cousins, and a friendship had formed between them over their shared secret.

"Mr. Masen? No. Of course it's not too late. I'm fine. Washington is fine. How are you? How is everyone doing?"

"We're all fine, but I've told you to please call me Michael. I'm sorry to call so late. I wanted to call earlier to see how you were, given what day it is, but I've been waiting on something I really hoped to get today, and it's just arrived. Check your e-mail."

"Ok. Why?"

Bella got her laptop and was typing in her password as Michael continued, "I know I told you we had no pictures of Edward. But I have great news. We found one. Or rather, Sue did. She's made finding a picture of him into a kind of mission, but we didn't want to say anything 'til she'd tracked one down—and she finally has. She's become a bit of a genealogy nut and managed to find the granddaughter of a cousin of his on his mother's side who had several old family pictures, one of which matched the description of a family portrait we remembered of Edward and his parents that was lost in the fire, but they didn't know who the people in the picture were. It was taken Christmas 1917. She talked to them a couple days ago, but we were afraid to say anything to you before they sent us a copy, in case it wasn't the picture we thought it was. They scanned it and sent it to Sue just a short while ago. I'm surprised you couldn't hear her screaming all the way in Washington when she recognized it. She sent it to me, and I forwarded it to you right away."

Only half hearing what Michael had said beyond "We found one," Bella sat with her laptop open and the e-mail from Michael staring back at her from her in box. She could not have moved in that moment if her life depended on it. All she had to do was open the e-mail and double click the attachment and she would finally see Edward's face, something she'd dreamed about but had given up on months ago, but she couldn't make her hand move.

"Bella? Honey, are you OK?"

"M'fine."

The sound of her own voice jarred her into action, and Bella was suddenly afraid she would wake up from a dream and lose her only chance to ever see Edward. Her heart was pounding. This wasn't a dream. It was really happening. Edward's family had tracked down a picture of him for her, and she was about to see him. Not only him, but his parents too. This was more than she had dared to hope for, and she could never thank them enough.

Bella clicked on the attachment and bit her lip painfully hard as she waited for it to load. When it finally did, after what felt like forever, she realized she should be surprised, she should be filled with shock and disbelief, but she wasn't. It was surreal. The handsome face looking back at her from next to his parents was exactly the face she only just now realized she had already known she'd see. If it had been any other face, that would have been the surprise. There had been too many coincidences for it to not be so; this was the only explanation that made sense—even if made no sense. The handsome face in the picture was one she already knew well, one she already loved dearly. It was more boyish, the features were less sharp, the lines were softer, but it was unquestionably, unmistakably the face of Edward Cullen.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Notes—

Well? Was it worth the wait? Now she knows Edward is Edward. I've had a bunch of reviewers guess what would happen after the teaser I put up; I hope it didn't disappoint. Before the teaser, pretty much everyone asked about Edward telling her who he was, but this was the plan from the beginning. Next chapter—the aftermath—should be up like normal this weekend.

If you haven't noticed yet, I'm a major Agatha Christie fan. The story about how Agatha Christie's career as a detective novelist began is true. Her first mystery novel was written for a bet. It wasn't her first novel, but it was the first to be published. Her first novel was entitled "Snow Upon the Desert" and was written under a (ridiculous, if you ask me) pseudonym, Monosyllaba. Every publisher she sent it to declined it. How would you like to be one of the people who declined the biggest selling novelist—between two and four billion copies, matched only by Shakespeare—of all time?

Three different websites I visited while researching valued a good condition first edition of _The Mysterious Affair at Styles_ with its dust jacket at between 20,000 and 25,000 pounds—that's about $32,500 - $40,600 in American dollars. Yowza!


	34. Chapter 34

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. One recurrent question I got was Tanya's reaction. She reacted to what she overheard Bella say to herself in her room out of shock. A baby is the one thing she can never give Charlie, and hearing Bella say she thought she (Tanya) might be pregnant without any kind of warning was a nasty and I would think rather painful shock. After Edward arrived, she took off for a little while both to pull herself together and give Edward and Bella a little privacy, or at least the illusion of it, but when Charlie came back with the Blacks, she came back.

And as for why Jacob was in a particularly bad mood, with his werewolf hearing, he would've heard Edward call Bella his girlfriend. I don't know if he would've heard the "I love you;" he was still two blocks away then, but with his enhanced sense of smell, he would've known exactly what they'd been doing before they arrived. And seeing them sitting so close together with Bella's hand on top of Edward's, well, Jacob was not having a good afternoon.

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Just in case you've forgotten how the last chapter ended….

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_Bella clicked on the attachment and bit her lip painfully hard as she waited for it to load. When it finally did, after what felt like forever, she realized she should be surprised, she should be filled with shock and disbelief, but she wasn't. It was surreal. The handsome face looking back at her from next to his parents was exactly the face she only just now realized she had already known she'd see. If it had been any other face, that would have been the surprise. There had been too many coincidences for it to not be so; this was the only explanation that made sense—even if made no sense. The handsome face in the picture was one she already knew well, one she already loved dearly. It was more boyish, the features were less sharp, the lines were softer, but it was unquestionably, unmistakably the face of Edward Cullen. _

Bella was momentarily paralyzed, but then laughter bordering on hysteria and combined with sobs erupted from her until she was gasping for breath.

She hadn't fallen in love with her _two_ Edwards, she'd fallen in love with her _one_ Edward—_twice_.

After forcing herself to calm down and getting off the phone with Michael as quickly as possible, Bella took out the only letter Edward had written to her that she hadn't reread to the point of memorizing it; the only one she hadn't reread even once—his last. The letter in which he'd unknowingly described the symptoms of the disease that had… that she'd believed until now had killed him. The letter in which he'd told her he loved her.

_He said it first last time. I said it first this time. Seems fair._

Laughter threatened to take over her again as indescribable joy surged through her. _He's alive. He's here. It's him. It's really him. He's really here, and he's really alive. _

Bella's laughter was short lived; it died in her throat the moment she saw a name she recognized.

Edward had written, "_Fortunately, little Charlie slept as well as we could hope, and Dr. Cullen managed to find a cot for him to sleep on a short while ago_."

_Dr. Cullen…. The doctor friend he described so many times was _Dr. Cullen_. _

The realization sobered her instantly; the joy she'd felt a moment ago changing to something very different. The realization also triggered something in her memory, and she pulled out the very first letter, the letter Edward had written to his cousin—she hadn't reread this letter; it had been the letters Edward had written to her that she'd poured over again and again. Again, the name she'd seen for weeks written in nearly that exact same hand stared up at her: _Cullen_. She'd seen the name before, but it hadn't stuck in her mind. After everything that had happened, everything she'd experienced since first reading this letter, she'd forgotten it.

If she had remembered, would she have seen the truth of who it was sitting beside her in two classes everyday sooner, or would it have been just one more coincidence?

Bella's initial reaction had been sheer joy, and though all the joy was still there, reality was starting to creep in now. Now, she was realizing that although Edward still looked and claimed to be seventeen, he was really over one hundred years old.

_Dr. Cullen? How old is he really? Alice? Tanya? "…and I've known him most of his life." Tanya said she'd known him for most of his life. Has she known him for over ninety years?_

Bella was looking at Edward's last family portrait with his birth family, but it was Edward with his adoptive family whose faces swam before her eyes.

_Michael said his eyes were green, but they're not. They're golden, amber brown, just like the rest of his family._

Bella dropped her head down to their desk.

_Idiot! His ADOPTIVE family. Eye color _does not _run in adoptive families. For that matter, neither do rare medical conditions._

Was "adoptive" even really the right term? Edward had been seventeen years old when he'd gotten sick, only eight months away from turning eighteen. Would a family friend be likely to _adopt_ him? Named as his guardian or given legal custody possibly, but _adoption_? And why a family friend when he had a large biological family of his own?

_Why did Dr. Cullen tell his family he died when he didn't? His biological family. Edward was supposed to have been visiting his biological family for months at the end of last year. But the biological family he knew are all dead. _

Bella began trying to remember everything and anything Edward had ever told her about his biological family, but there was precious little. She ran her fingers over the front of the drawer with the hidden compartment thinking about the night their desk had been delivered. _Alice asked him about his grandfather. What did she say? "Hey, Edward, didn't your grandfather, the Major, have a desk just like that?" _Bella sighed sadly. _His grandfather, the Major. He said he didn't remember his grandparents._

She remembered how it felt to get their desk back and remembered how he had been the one to step forward to help her take all the wrappings off. She hadn't noticed then, but now she could see that he had been just as excited to see the desk, _their_ desk, as she had been. She'd started to cry, and he'd wiped her tear away. What had he said? "_Don't cry. I'm right here."_ How had she not noticed what a strange thing that was for a boy she had supposedly only just met that week to say?

The bouquet of flowers he'd brought her was on the corner of their desk. _The vase had been his mother's. He said he barely remembered his mother. "It's really just something Carlisle took from my parents' house in Chicago for me after she died. I don't even remember it. I have plenty of other things of hers that actually mean something to me, things I can actually remember seeing her use or wear."_

Bella remembered that in one of Edward's letters, he'd mentioned a crystal vase his father had given his mother filled with flowers for her birthday a few months before he'd died.

_Is this the vase? _

Suddenly, the things stolen from their house after his mother's and his supposed deaths made perfect sense. _It was _Dr. Cullen _who broke into their house. That's why it was Edward's bedroom that was the hardest hit. Dr. Cullen took his things for him. He took their personal things. Things Edward would need or might want. His clothes. His mother's jewelry. Photographs. But why? If he was planning to basically kidnap him away from his real family, why would he do that? Wouldn't he want to sever Edward's connection to his real family? Why would he want to reinforce it?_

A tear slipped down her check. _The phonograph that was in the third-floor room at their house. The old records. That's why the records he played for me were in such perfect condition. He'd taken such good care of them because they'd belonged to his real parents. The vase. Dr. Cullen took his mother's vase for him. That's why it looks so new, why there are no little scratches or any other signs of a century's use. His father bought it new, not very long before he died. _

The flowers were still in the vase. Most were about done for, but she hadn't wanted to get rid of them yet. Bella bit her lip. It was such an unusual bouquet, so eclectic. Bella quickly sent the photograph of Edward and his birth parents to the printer downstairs and opened a new tab on her laptop.

_Flowers have meanings. Red roses mean I love you. People used to use flowers to deliver a message. Did he… _

She Googled "meaning of flowers" and clicked on the Wikipedia page for "Language of Flowers." Lilac, baby's breath, and the apple blossoms were the only flowers she recognized, and she looked for lilac first. _Lilac, purple. First emotion of love. _Bella bit her lip harder as tears filled her eyes. She inhaled a shaky breath. _Baby's breath, innocence, pure of heart. Apple blossom, preference. _

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Edward's bouquet had been a secret "I love you" message.

_Damn. He beat me to it again after all. _

_But why had it needed to be secret? _

She clicked on each of the other flowers listed on the page one by one hoping to find a picture of the other flowers in her bouquet. It took time, but Bella finally identified the purple pompom-like flowers and the small yellow flowers. Even the greenery had a meaning. The small yellow flowers were agrimony and meant thankfulness. The greenery was acacia and meant secret love. The small purple pompoms were globe amaranths.

_Immortal love._ In the language of flowers, globe amaranths meant immortal love.

Bella's blood ran cold. Her thoughts ran wild, sporadic. _Immortal? Is Edward…. Did Dr. Cullen somehow…. Is _that _why he still looks seventeen? He's _immortal_? _What _did Dr. Cullen _do _to him? _

Anger began to fill her.

_Edward and his mother trusted him! They respected him! They stood up to others on his behalf!_

She dropped her head into her hands, silently seething. _Are they all…. Do the Quileutes somehow know? They call them 'freaks.' Is that why? _

Bella couldn't remember any other times that Edward had mentioned his birth family to her, but one thing he'd said now held new meaning. After she'd woken up in the third-floor room at their house the other day and saw his phonograph and records, she'd asked him if he believed in reincarnation. He'd said no. He didn't believe in reincarnation or ghosts or mediums, but when she'd asked him if he didn't believe in the supernatural…. _That_ _he said he believed in. _

Now the odd tone of his voice as he answered her made sense. _Longing, regret… and gratitude. And fear._

She hadn't picked up on the fear then, but she remembered it now. There had been definite fear in his voice. And not only then, but how many other times? She remembered the expression on his face when he'd let slip that he was from Chicago, the way he'd rubbed the back of his neck nervously and squeezed his eyes shut when she saw the—his parents'—phonograph.

_He's afraid. Of what? Of me? Why would he be afraid of me? Why didn't he just tell me the truth? Tell me who he really was? _

Bella wiped tears from her eyes. _What do I expect him to have done? Walk up and say, "It's me, Bella. It's OK. I didn't die. My 'adoptive father' made me immortal. Isn't it great?" Is he afraid of Dr. Cullen? Is that why he hasn't said anything? He _looks _like he loves his family, but is it… what's that called when kidnap victims bond with their captors? Munchausen? No, that's not it. Stockholm Syndrome, that's it. Is that why Dr. Cullen stole his family's things for him? To make Edward believe he wasn't so very bad? "Look, see what I have for you? Wasn't that nice of me?" _

_It's been so very long, and he said he doesn't remember his grandparents, and he barely remembers his mother. Has it been so long that Dr. Cullen has brainwashed him into believing _they _are his real family, into forgetting his own? But there are so many of them. Are they all victims, like Edward? What about Tanya? I know she loves my dad, and it's obvious she cares very much about Edward. I just can't believe she'd ever hurt anyone. And Alice…. And Esme…. _

Bella paced around her room trying to make sense of things. She was hurt and angry that Edward hadn't told her the truth, but under that, she trusted that there had to be a reason why he hadn't.

She remembered the happiness on Edward's face when he'd told her about going to the movies in his time, the tone of his voice when he'd told her Debussy had been a favorite of his mother's. She hadn't recognized it for what it was, mournful.

_He said he barely remembers her. But he still misses her. He still mourns her. What about his father? He remembered the poem I sent him after he died. Does he remember his father better? Or even less?_

The poem. He'd said his dearest friend had given it to him after his father had died.

Bella dug her knuckles into her eyes before dropping her head into her hands. How had she not picked up on that? Had he been trying, albeit indirectly, to tell her the truth all this time?

_What seventeen-year-old boy says "dearest" today? Or his "sweet Bella." How many times did he call me that in his letters? How did I not recognize him sooner? His "dearest Bella_," _his_ "_dearest friend." That's what he called me when he wrote that he loved me._

Bella pictured the hopeful, hesitant smile when he'd asked her to dance, and her heart melted just like it had then. She remembered what Edward had told her when he gave her the book for an anniver—

_Anniversary! It wasn't just for the "five day anniversary of our first kiss;" it was for our one year anniversary! He said he bought it a long time ago for a couple dollars. _She laughed. _A long time ago, he bought it new in 1920! _

She went back to her computer to Google "Agatha Christie, _The Mysterious Affair at Styles._"

_Mhmmm, just what I thought. Original sale price in the United States, $2. A couple dollars. Very funny, Edward. _

Bella sighed and ran her hand through her hair, shaking her head. _It's _really _him._

Her father came up and knocked on her door, and she wiped her face quickly and tried to steady her voice before answering.

"Bells? It's late. You still doing school work?" her father asked, sticking his head inside her bedroom door.

"No. Why?"

"You printed something."

Her eyes widened in fear. She'd printed the picture of Edward and his parents. The printer was downstairs. _Tanya _was downstairs.

_If she sees that picture, she'll know I know they did something to him! _

"Oh. Right. I... just…. It was just…. It was nothing…. Coupon…. It was just an online coupon. Movies. For the movies. In Port Angeles. It was just an online coupon for the movies in Port Angeles. Some of the girls at school were talking about going to the movies… In Port Angeles. And I found a coupon. For the movies. So I printed it. The coupon. For the movies."

"Oookay. Don't forget it."

"Don't forget what?"

Her father laughed at her. "The coupon."

"Oh, right. For the movies."

"Right. For the movies. You OK, Bells?"

"I'm fine." Oh God, her voice actually squeaked. _God, I'm lying _to a cop _and I'm doing a crap job. I sound guilty as sin. _

He laughed again, shaking his head. "OK then, good night, Bells."

"Night, Dad."

As soon as her father closed her bedroom door, Bella collapsed on her bed as her body went numb. The only thing she could feel was her pounding heart. Once she could feel her legs again and was sure she could take a step without falling to the floor, she hurried downstairs and got the picture off the printer. It was still lying face down and didn't look like anyone had touched it, and she breathed a sigh of relief, nearly collapsing again.

"What movie are you and your friends going to see?"

"AHHH!" Bella screamed and spun around. Her hand went automatically to her racing heart as if she was trying to keep it from jumping out of her chest. Tanya was standing there, clearly trying to keep from laughing. Bella hadn't heard her come up from behind. In spite of the absolute quiet, she hadn't heard Tanya come up behind her.

"You OK there, Bells?" Tanya asked, donning a rather suspiciously knowing grin.

All Bella could do was stand there wide-eyed, nod her head yes, and clutch at her heart. _How old is she really? _

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Tanya apologized.

Bella continued to stand there wide-eyed, shaking her head no and clutching at her heart. "S'alright." _Did Dr. Cullen do whatever he did to Edward to her too? _

"Are you sure you're OK, Bella?"

Nod.

"Maybe you should stay away from the scary movies."

Emphatic nod.

"No zombies?"

As she very emphatically shook her head no, Bella's eyes widened further in horror. Z_ombies!? _

Tanya's eyes instantly filled with concern. "Bella? Honey, really, are you sure everything's OK?"

"Mhmm." That couldn't have been her voice. It sounded like a door with squeaky hinges. _Like a door with rusty squeaky hinges…. Like a door with rusty squeaky hinges in an old creepy house…. Like a door with rusty squeaking hinges in an old creepy haunted house…. _

"OK then." Tanya sat down at the dining room table and motioned for Bella to sit down and join her.

Bella's mouth was dry, and she felt sick. She tried to swallow and reached out blindly, hoping to find a chair to guide herself into. One word kept playing over and over in her mind. _Zombies. _

"Bella, I love your father very much."

"Mhmm."

"And he loves me."

"Mhmm." Bella's heart began to calm down, and it was easier to swallow when she remembered that that was true. Tanya and her father loved each other. Her father loved this woman. She remembered earlier today when her father, Jacob, and Billy got back from fishing. _They've been together for almost a year. He knows the truth; he has to. He knows the truth, and he loves her anyway. He's a _cop_. He's the _Chief of Police_. He trusts her. He trusts Dr. Cullen. He knows the truth, and he trusts Dr. Cullen. _

"Bella, Edward…. I know it's very soon for you, but he loves you so much."

_Edward. _My _Edward. He's still _my _Edward. Whatever else he is now, he's still _my _Edward. And he still loves me. _Bella's stomach began to settle. "I know." There—words, she'd managed actual words that time. "I love him, too." Four words that time, even better. All still one syllable words, but four words was still an improvement over two.

_My Edward._

Bella clutched the now crumpled picture tighter in her lap and drew strength from it just had as she had all those months ago with her locket and the lock of his hair. _My Edward. Nothing else matters. Whatever else he is now, it doesn't matter. He's my Edward._

She remembered when he'd told her about going to the movies during his time. She remembered, in class on Monday, starting to cry when he'd read the poem she'd sent him after his father's death. He'd given her his handkerchief.

_E. A. M. C. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen._

She'd joked that it seemed like he didn't want to tell her what the A. M. stood for, but he really hadn't. _Aggie. I said I was going to call him Aggie from now on. _Bella remembered tracing her finger over the embroidered blue letters after school and wondering what his full name was. _Alexander Matthew. I considered Alexander Matthew. Alex. The paramedic's name in the ambulance Monday night was Alex. That's why it seemed important. It reminded me of wondering what Edward's full name was. Alice and Mrs. Cullen got pizza from Anthony's for me. That's what reminded me. Anthony's. After Alice said she was getting me pizza from Anthony's, that's when I started feeling like remembering the paramedic's name was so important. Anthony. Sitting in my room after school that day, I'd started to think that the A in his initials could stand for Anthony. That's when I freaked out and ran into the woods. I was alone, and I still had Edward's handkerchief with me. I remember that now. That's why I haven't been able to find it, I had it in my hand when I ran into the woods. I must've dropped it when I fell. Edward and Jacob were both there. But why were they _both _there? They can't stand each other. Why were they both there? Edward told me he carried me out after I fell. But I went into the woods alone. He wasn't there when I fell. How did he get there? _

"You still look like you've seen a ghost, but if you're sure you're OK, I'm going to go up to bed. You should too. Don't be up late. It's a school night."

"I'm fine. No ghosts." Bella sat there a few moments longer listening to Tanya's footsteps on the stairs. She didn't turn around. She just sat there staring straight ahead and listening. _Every footstep. I can hear every footstep loud and clear._ Once Bella heard the bedroom door shut, she turned her head a few inches to the side and looked at the stairs. _She did that on purpose. I know she did. I didn't hear her before, and she scared me. She made sure I heard her this time. She knew how scared I was. She saw the picture. She had to have. She knows I know. Both times. She knew I hadn't heard her when she came up behind me. She made sure I heard her walk away. The footsteps were too heavy, artificial. She wasn't banging her feet up the stairs, but it wasn't far from it. She knew I was afraid. That's why she made a point of reminding me that she and my father love each other. That Edward loves me. "I know it's very soon for you…" "…soon for you…" Soon for _me_. It's soon for _me _to be so in love with him. But it's not soon for him. He told me this morning when he gave me the book that he'd never had a girlfriend to give presents to before. Because he's been waiting for _me _all this time? For me to come back to him? He's waited for me all this time." _

The last four words Edward Masen ever wrote swam before her eyes.

_I remain, _

_Yours_

_Edward_

And he had. All these years…. All this time…. Surrounded by God only knows how many Jessica Stanleys for over ninety years, he'd remained hers. In a daze, overwhelmed, Bella slowly got up and climbed the stairs to her room.

Once there, she sat down heavily at their desk and smoothed out the picture of him with his birth parents. _Edward…. It's really you. You've waited all this time for me._

Suddenly Jessica Stanley's irritated, insulted face as she'd said on Bella's first day of school, "Don't waste your time. _Edward _doesn't date. Apparently, none of the girls here are good enough for him," swam in Bella's mind, and she started to laugh. All the times the other girl had pissed her off with her snide comments about Edward and his family or her shallow, vain attempts to flaunt herself in front of him made so much more sense. It always had surprised Bella how violent her reaction to Jessica's words was, how badly she'd always wanted to shove those words back down the other girl's throat and make her choke on them. But now it made perfect sense.

Her initial reaction to Edward, that immediate connection she'd felt to him…. The feeling she had earlier today—she'd wanted to take him and run away with him, to hide him. Some part of her heart had recognized her Edward immediately and was terrified of losing him again. It was only her brain that took so long to catch up. Her heart didn't have to contend with logic like her mind did. All her heart knew was that her Edward was standing in front of her.

Another image of Jessica Stanley's face passed through her mind, and Bella smirked at the memory. She laughed as she remembered her thoughts at that moment. On her first day back to school after her fall, Edward had leaned down to her and had gently kissed first her forehead, repeating their first kiss—which had become sort of a tradition of his since Tuesday—then he'd kissed her lips. They'd been standing at the door to her homeroom, in plain view of Jessica. Walking into that classroom, Bella had thought Jessica's face just might split in two. It wouldn't have surprised her if smoke had started billowing from her ears. Her thoughts at the time had surprised her, but she understood them better now. She had always been shy, but walking into that room all Bella had felt was power. At least as far as Jessica was concerned. There had also been over a dozen other kids in the room with their mouths hanging open who had just seen Edward kiss her, and there'd been a small part of her mind self-conscious of such a PDA, but the larger part of her mind had been focused on Jessica's irate face. Her only thought at the time as far as Jessica was concerned had been, _Take that._ Now, Bella added, _bitch. _

Bella traced her finger next to Edward's image. The picture was nearly one hundred years old, but he looked virtually exactly the same, just a little younger, more boyish. In the photograph, Edward was wearing a black three-piece suit and a black tie. The hair that was left loose and wild now had been worn neatly slicked back then. He was standing. His father was standing behind him, taller, to the left. His mother was seated in front of and between the two. Her hair was pulled up, as was the custom at the time, and she was wearing earrings that Bella could only just see and a brooch that she assumed matched the earrings. Her hands were rested one on top of the other on her lap. It was a formal picture that was typical, Bella knew, of the time. There was no obvious affection evident between them. They were standing or sitting perfectly straight and upright, not leaning slightly toward each other, as they would likely have been posed today. They were straight-faced, not smiling. By today's standards, the people in the picture would appear cold, but knowing them as well as she did through Edward's letters, Bella knew they were in reality a strong, devoted, and above all very loving family.

Bella's breath caught in her throat as she looked as his mother; she looked so delicate and fragile in her beautiful lace gown. But Bella knew not only what she would endure over the next, last several months of her life, but what she had already endured—from the unfair treatment of her brother-in-law, to Edward's premature birth and the uncertainty that he would survive, to the death of not just the sister she loved so much in that horrible fire, but her sister's children and husband as well. There was nothing delicate or fragile about Edward's mother.

Looking down at the serene face she felt a kinship with the other woman. They both loved Edward fiercely. Elizabeth Masen had sacrificed her chance to recover from that horrible flu. Bella shivered. _Flu. What an inadequate word to describe the nightmare they went through. _Elizabeth Masen had refused to follow the doctor's orders—_Dr. Cullen's orders—_and stay in bed, instead nursing her son as long as she could, until her own body gave out.

_Her last coherent thoughts were probably believing her son would die as well. How horrible. Just like Mr. Rinaldi. _Bella looked away from the picture and toward her window. The curtains were open, but the cloudy sky kept the moon's light from reaching the trees behind the house. _But her son didn't die. He lives with Dr. Cullen in a huge old Victorian mansion in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere…. _

_Edward…. What did he _do _to you? _Bella stood up with the picture still in her hand and crossed her room to look out her window and repeated her question to herself. _What did he do to you?_

She leaned her palms against the window sill and pressed her forehead against the glass. The line of the woods couldn't be more than fifty feet from where she was standing, but she could only just barely make them out it was so dark.

_What happened Edward? What… what are you? _Bella closed her eyes and sighed as she lifted her hand and pressed it against the window. _How are you still alive? Why do you still look seventeen?_

_Why couldn't you tell me?_

Edward's words from one of his first letters rang in her ears as if he was not just answering her, but warning her. "Some things are not meant to be understood, just accepted and appreciated."

But she shook her head. _No. I can't. I'm sorry, Edward. I can't do that. Not this time. This time is different. Last time neither of us knew what was happening, but this time you do. You know what happened to you. To Tanya and Alice. To all of you. And so does my father. Even Jake and the others on the rez know. I can't be the only one who doesn't know. _She opened her eyes and looked toward the dark woods. _I don't care. I really don't. But I have to know. I know you're not some… some Zombie… like in the movies…. You're a living, breathing…._

The hair on the back of Bella's neck stood up straight. Breathing. How many times had she thought it looked like Edward was holding his breath? Had he not been _holding_ his breath, but rather just not breathing at all?

Bella shook her head, angry at herself. _See? This is why. This is why I have to know. I promise you, whatever the truth is, I will be imagining something much worse. _

She tried to stop herself, but she couldn't. Once she'd thought about Edward breathing, Bella couldn't stop her mind from recalling the feeling of his body breathing, of his lungs expanding in his chest as he inhaled deeply when he'd held her in his arms. That wasn't the thought that scared her, though. The thought that scared her was remembering the feeling of him exhaling_._

_Your breath is always cold. Why is your breath _always _cold? _

Bella squeezed her eyes shut and her hands closed into fists, as if she could shut herself down, close herself off from the unwanted thoughts. But just as it had been impossible to stop the thoughts she hadn't wanted to have all those months ago in her bedroom in Phoenix, it was equally impossible to do so now.

_Your skin. What's wrong with your skin? Your hands… Your lips… They aren't just cold… They're hard. Why are your hands and lips cold and hard? _

The sudden picture of herself as a little girl next to her grandmother's casket came to her, and Bella tried to push it away, but it wouldn't budge. Her eyes squeezed shut harder, and her hands clenched so hard she could feel her nails digging into her palms as the memory played through her mind against her will. She knew even then, at such a young age, that the cold, hard feel of her grandmother's hand would stay with her forever.

_Stop it! Stop it! You're not dead! You didn't die! You're here! You breathe. I've felt you breathe. I've heard you breathe. You're alive. I've heard your heartbeat. _

But she hadn't.

Bella couldn't remember one single time she'd heard Edward's heartbeat. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember feeling or hearing Edward's heart beat one single time. She fought so hard against crying out, that she ended up making some strange half-strangled sound. Watching silent movies at his house on Tuesday, she'd put her hand on his chest. She tried to picture the scene in her mind. _The left or the right? Did I put my hand more on the left or the right side of his chest? _She'd rested her head against his chest more than once when they'd held each other, why couldn't she remember ever hearing his heartbeat?

_His neck… Should I have felt his pulse when I kissed his neck? _

Not, of course, that she'd been thinking about checking to make sure he had a pulse at the time, but she remembered how intimate it felt to feel him breathe. _I felt the muscles in his throat every time he swallowed and when he breathed, even when he spoke. Shouldn't I have felt his pulse? I know mine was racing. Why wasn't his? Why are you all so cold? Why are you all so pale? Why do you all have that strange goldish eye color? Why do you pretend to have rare medical conditions? It can't be just so you can ditch school whenever you want. And why do you all ditch at _the same time_? Do you skip school to back up the medical conditions story, or is the medical conditions story to explain the missed school? Does your father miss work like that too? Do all the absences mean something, or is Jacob right that you just blow off school any time the sun is out?_

Jacob.

Bella's back straightened. _Jacob knows. _

Could she ask him? Would he tell her anything? With as much as Jacob hated the Cullens, if he told her anything, could she trust it to be the truth? How could she ask? Would it turn into a huge argument?

_Who am I kidding? The way he looked when he left this afternoon, I doubt if he'll even answer the phone if he knows it's me. _

As much as it hurt, Bella knew now with even more certainty than she had a few hours ago that as much as losing Jacob would hurt, she would survive. Losing Edward…. Losing Edward _again_…. It just wasn't an option.

She couldn't ask Jacob. It wasn't fair to him. Would their already strained friendship survive if she found out the truth? Her father and Billy's was clearly at the breaking point despite the long years of history behind it. Again, Bella asked herself if it was even fair of her to try to maintain her friendship with Jacob knowing how he felt and the things he'd said about Edward and his family. It was an even harder question to answer now that she knew that whatever the cause of the feud between the two sides was, it was bigger than she could have ever imagined and it was very, very real.

_The Quileutes somehow know the truth. _The Quileutes_. Not just Jacob. Not just his friends. Not just his father. The whole tribe._

Bella remembered the incredible tension last Easter from her first visit to the rez since she was a little girl. Easter dinner, Rachel had cooked, then after dinner, Jacob had helped her clean up until they'd fought. Until she'd tricked him into thinking Tanya had made that casserole. Her father's casserole dish…. That slip of paper…. She'd yelled at him that they had no proof, and later she'd found that slip of paper with the website about Quileute legends. Had Jacob been trying to give her what little proof he could? She had no idea what the website was. _But how hard could it be to find? They're a small tribe. How many websites about them could there possibly be? _

Bella hurried to their desk and stubbed her toe against the edge of it. She hopped the last two steps to the chair, swearing under her breath. It wasn't until she got a list of responses and saw a website devoted to the legends of the Quileutes of the Pacific Northwest that she began to feel a glimmer of anxiety. Whatever she was about to find out was going to flip her world upside down.

Edward was alive. He was one hundred and eight years old and looked seventeen. Whatever the reason for that could possibly be, it would change everything she ever thought she knew. Her world, _the_ world would not be the same tomorrow as it had been today. One thing she was already sure of was that it couldn't be anything good, or he'd have told her himself already. He wouldn't have had to keep it from her if it was something good.

The apprehension only stopped her for a moment before she beat it down. _Whatever it is, it can't be entirely bad. If it's the reason Edward and I are together, really together, it can't be _all _bad. _

Whatever the truth was, Bella told herself that hiding from it was pointless. Her not knowing what had happened to Edward wouldn't change it, and she refused to let him deal with it by himself any longer.

She took a deep breath and clicked on the link. Her body didn't move an inch as she read, she sat perfectly still, only her eyes moved. She read everything several times before collapsing against the back of the chair and mechanically shutting down the laptop.

Even after the screen went dark she could still see the words emblazoned on it. _Blood suckers. Cold Ones. The legend Jacob told me while we walked on the beach together in August about the spirit warriors defending the tribe from the Cold Man—do they think Dr. Cullen is that Cold Man? But the spirit warriors in the legend destroyed the Cold Man. Then his mate, the Cold Woman, came and nearly destroyed the village until the Third Wife sacrificed herself and distracted the Cold Woman long enough for her husband, the only spirit warrior left, to kill her. _

_Dr. Cullen isn't the Cold Man from the story, but he's the same as him. They all are. "A misunderstanding from generations ago," Alice called it. Well… she didn't exactly lie, but she sure as hell minimized it. Vampires. They're vampires. All of them… Edward… Tanya… Alice… Dr. Cullen… A vampire doctor, now that's something you don't expect to ever come across. Blood…. They…. Edward drinks blood. _

The incredible irony of Edward drinking blood and her not being able to see it without fainting started her laughing quietly, but the stress she'd been under since opening that e-mail attachment and seeing his face was too much. She was wound so tightly her quiet laughter was like a pin pricking a balloon, and suddenly Bella found herself on the verge of hysterics, doubled over, holding her stomach, and gasping for breath. Not easy things to do when trying to be quiet and not wake your father and his vampire girlfriend.

_Are vampires cranky when they wake up? If humans can be, why wouldn't they be too? They started out human, didn't they? A cranky vampire can't be good. Dear God… vampires. My boyfriend is a one hundred-and-eight-year-old vampire. Or is he? Would he be considered ninety-two? Well, he hasn't actually had his birthday yet—is that even the right term?—so he's still only ninety-one. Only ninety-one. My vampire boyfriend is only ninety-one. He drinks blood. Well? So what, really? I eat flesh. He probably thinks that's gross. If you think about it like that, it kind of is. Or do they eat solid food too?_

Bella tried to remember every time she'd ever seen Edward or Tanya with food, but she couldn't remember ever actually seeing either of them put any food in their mouth. Any food they put on their plate disappeared, but she never saw them actually eat it. They could've been stashing it in a pocket for all she knew.

_It's not like they're running around destroying villages and killing people like the Cold Ones in the Quileute's legends. They're not the same as them. They're not. Dr. Cullen is a _doctor _for God's sake. They're the same, what? Species? But they're not the same as them. Forks probably hasn't even had an unsolved murder in—_

Suddenly, her father's words from her visit last Easter echoed in Bella's ears. _Missing campers. The missing campers. No. That wasn't them. That was a bear. The bear was actually seen by people. Besides, they had already been here for a long time, and there are eight of them. What's a couple campers between eight vampires?_

It shocked her how logically she was dealing with this.

_What's a couple campers between eight vampires? Did I actually just think that? It's just… my defense mechanism. But it's not true. That _wasn't _them. _

_Oh my God. Edward is a vampire—a real live _vampire_. Does he have fangs? Vampires are supposed to have fangs, aren't they? Edward doesn't have fangs. I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed fangs. Oh, God… that's why he doesn't open his mouth when he kisses me. Do they… descend? When he—what do they call it? Feed? Drink? Do they descend when he… needs… them? They must. How would he… do… what he needs to do without fangs? _

This time, it was Jacob's words Bella heard in her head._ "…blow off school any time the sun is out…" Oh my God, that's why you tell everyone you've got some rare disease that makes you allergic to the sun. You really _do_. God, Tanya came to Phoenix. _Phoenix! _Is she crazy?_

Overwhelmed, Bella was sitting down at their desk with her forehead pressed against the old green leather. Her hands were buried in her hair, and she was pulling fistfuls of it.

_But if they don't…. They're not like the Cold Ones in the legends. But they _are _vampires. _

_I don't slaughter—oh God—slaughter my own food, but I still eat it. It's not like they can go to the supermarket and pick up a few pints. Where do they get it? The hospital? Is that why Dr. Cullen became a doctor? To have access to blood banks? But they didn't have blood banks in 1918. _

_Or… did he become a doctor to have access to new family members? Did he become a doctor to have access to people who were… who were dying and who no one would miss? Or who no one would _know _to miss? Edward had a large family. He had family and friends working at the hospital who would have seen him grow sicker day by day. If they were told he had died during a time when so many were dying that they'd actually run out of caskets… and by a doctor they already knew and who they knew was a friend of his and his mother's…. Of course they'd never have questioned it. Who would've? His mother's family already had their hands full with his uncle and cousin and after six days, who knows who else might've gotten sick. His father's family was out of state. His friends were busy with their own families. His friend, Joe, was one of the first to get sick, then Lillian and Anna both got sick. They were all still weak, Lillian especially. Will worked at the hospital as tirelessly as Edward had. Edward told me himself that no one—_no one—_looked at a body after a sheet was pulled over it. And funerals were banned. They only allowed memorial services with very few people and no body. If Dr. Cullen told people Edward died shortly after his mother, he'd have been believed without question. But why? Edward was his friend. Why would he do that to him?_

Grief stricken and horrified by the betrayal Edward had suffered by someone he'd both trusted and respected, Bella released her hair and covered her lower face with her hand as she stared toward the window.

She closed her eyes. Edward and his mother _had_ both trusted Dr. Cullen.

_Maybe I'm…. I'm looking at this as a human. Maybe that's the wrong way to look at it. I'm looking at is as a human, Dr. Cullen did this _to _him. But would a vampire look at it differently? Would a vampire—God, I can't believe I'm even thinking this—would a vampire—_a vampire!—_would he have looked at it as doing it _for _him? I keep thinking how they were friends. _Edward was his friend_. Was that _why _he did it? Not _to _him, but _for _him? _

_Or for _himself_? _

_If Edward had reached a point where there was no hope left, could Dr. Cullen just not bear to watch his friend die if he could save him, even if this was the only way? He'd already watched Edward's mother die. Could he simply not stand to do it twice? _

_And Dr. Cullen was all alone. Edward told me he had no family, no friends apart from himself and his mother. How many vampires could there possibly be in be world? Could he just not stand to lose his last friend and be alone again? _

_Edward is one-hundred-and-nine. No he's not, he's still one-hundred-and-eight. Or is he ninety-two? I mean ninety-one. Oh, whatever. How old is Dr. Cullen? How long had he been alone? _

Edward's beautiful face filled her mind, only this time it was cushioned on a pillow as he lay dying in his hospital bed all those years ago. It was shining with sweat from his fever, and instead of pale white it was that horrible purple-blue color he'd described to her from lack of oxygen.

_If it had been me, what would I have done? If I had been in Dr. Cullen's position, if my only friend was dying and there was something I could do to save him? His family was going to lose him one way or the other_. Bella admitted to herself that she knew the answer. _I'd have done anything, given anything to save him. When I learned of the epidemic, if there was anything I could have done, anything at all…. I was ready to do anything I had to do to get the medicine he needed. I'd have done anything to save him. Isn't that exactly what Dr. Cullen did? He had a way to save him, and he did it. Can I blame him when I'd have done anything I could have myself?_

Bella ran her hands through hair roughly and sighed tiredly.

_Had I been there and known the truth, I'd have gotten down on my knees and begged Dr. Cullen to save him. _

The illuminated numbers on her alarm clock caught Bella's eye, and she was surprised to see that it was after two in the morning. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands before running her hands through her hair again in exhaustion. Not expecting to get any sleep that night, she forced herself to go through her normal routine anyway. Edward would be there in less than six hours to pick her up for school, and judging by his reaction to her on Monday after she'd bruised her shoulder the day before, she suspected he would know if she hadn't slept at all.

Looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror after brushing her teeth, Bella leaned closer to the mirror and, feeling very silly, curled her upper lip back away from her teeth, trying to picture herself with fangs. She just couldn't do it, and she was surprise how disappointed it made her.

The disappointment she'd felt earlier in the day when Edward had told her that Tanya wasn't pregnant made sense now. _He didn't just say _Tanya _couldn't have children, he said _none of them _could. He said _he _can't have children._ Bella placed her hand low on her stomach, acknowledging what that meant.

If Edward couldn't have children, she couldn't have children.

It wasn't as if having children had ever been her life's goal, but knowing at seventeen that it would never happen was a blow.

She turned the light off and went back to her room. Sitting back down at their desk she picked up the picture of Edward with his family.

"I love you, Edward. Nothing else matters. Nothing."

She opened the top drawer on the left and for the first time in months, she pulled it all the way out to open the hidden compartment at the bottom of the drawer. The letter she wrote to Edward back in June was still there: her last letter to Edward Masen, the letter that he never saw.

As Bella picked up the letter, she felt a tear slide down her check as she remembered her horror when she saw it still there—the spell broken, the miracle over once Edward was no longer there to receive it. Bella paused for a moment before wiping the tear away and putting the picture in with the letter. She closed the drawer again, allowing her fingers to trail along the wood. It didn't matter anymore. Edward was here now. They were together now. She didn't have to write to him anymore. He was here, and she could see him and touch him. She could put her arms around him and kiss him. She could tell him to his face that she loved him.

Climbing into bed and laying on her back, Bella stared at the ceiling, worried how she would react to him in the morning.

Edward Cullen or Edward Masen, human or vampire, it made no difference. He was her Edward; that was all that mattered.

He was just her Edward with an allergy to the sun now.

And a special diet….

And possibly fangs….

But still her Edward.

It wasn't that Bella was afraid she'd cringe away from him or be suddenly afraid of him. She was, however, afraid she'd give herself away somehow. Clearly, for whatever reason, Edward wasn't ready for her to know the truth yet. Bella knew she was a rotten liar, but, she reasoned, why should she have to lie about knowing something no one was going to ask her about? But what if she let something slip? Worse…. What if she let something slip in front of other people?

She yawned wide and rubbed her eyes. As beat as she was, she was sure she wasn't going to get any sleep. But she was wrong; the moment she rolled over, Bella's eyes drifted shut, and she was deep asleep. She slept soundly, and if she dreamed at all, she didn't remember it in the morning.

When her alarm went off, Bella's eyes flew open, and she had the vague impression that she wasn't alone in her room. Lying perfectly still, she listened carefully, but there was no sound other than her own breathing. She was alone; there was no one there.

Wondering where the feeling of being watched came from, everything from last night came back to her in a rush. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and asking herself if it had been real or if it was just some strange dream—because, Lord knew, she had enough of those. The more Bella woke up, the more impossible it seemed but the more certain she was that it was real. Knowing it was all true but still needing to see proof, she got out of bed and went straight to their desk. She opened up the hidden compartment, and the picture of Edward with his parents was staring up at her.

Her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed into her chair.

_Holy crap. My boyfriend is a one-hundred-and-nine-year-old vampire. Or ninety-two. Or ninety-one. Oh, whatever. Edward Cullen is Edward Masen. He's is a vampire. Tanya... Alice… Dr. Cullen… all of them. All vampires. Holy friggin' crap._

Bella sat there for so long she hadn't even started to get ready when she heard Edward's Volvo pull up on the gravel driveway next to the house, and she jumped up to quickly pull on whatever clothes were closest. Alice would freak if she knew, but Alice wasn't here _to_ know.

_Alice. Alice is a vampire. _

_Holy Crap! Jacob turns into a wolf!_

Bella had been so preoccupied with Edward last night that Jacob's side of the story had never occurred to her, and with Edward walking up the front steps, and her still in just a ratty old t-shirt and underwear with unbrushed teeth and unbrushed hair, she didn't have time to think about it now either.

Once she'd zipped up her jeans, Bella quickly ran a brush through her hair, pulled it up into a ponytail, and ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She hesitated for a moment at the top of the steps when she heard Edward and Tanya downstairs talking and realized that once she went down those stairs, she would be stepping into her own role in the play that was life in Forks.

But it didn't matter. Edward was her leading man in that play. It was _her_ Edward waiting downstairs for her.

Bella hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping but catching herself in time. The second she saw him, she froze. There he was. Her Edward. Edward, her however old vampire boyfriend, was standing there by the door waiting for her, and she ran across the room, threw her arms around him, and kissed him hard before moving along his jaw toward his ear and back to his mouth. Her hands were all over his back, across his shoulders, up to tangle into his hair and back.

She heard Tanya giggle, but she didn't care.

When she reluctantly released his lips, he smiled down at her. "Good morning to you, too. May I ask what I did to deserve that? I want to make sure to do it again."

Still holding him tightly and burying her face in his chest—his silent chest, she noted—Bella inhaled deeply. Knowing the truth, the very air around him seemed sweeter. "You're here. That's enough. You're here." Looking up into his deep amber eyes, Bella reached up and kissed him again. "I love you, Edward. So much."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Sweet Bella. I love you, too."

_Sweet Bella. He called me Sweet Bella again. _"Say that again."

"I love you, too."

"Hmmm. Both parts."

Edward laughed and pushed a lose strand of hair behind her ear. "Both parts of what?"

She blushed and buried her face against his chest again. "What you said before. Both parts."

He wouldn't let her hide his face from him, and put his finger under her chin to gently raise it toward him. "Sweet Bella?"

Bella's eyes fell shut, and she sighed happily. Edward peppered her face with light kisses starting, of course, at her forehead before working his way to her lips. "Sweet Bella. Sweet Bella. My sweet, sweet Bella. I love you."

"You two are so sweet, a person could get a cavity just being in the same room, but you do plan on leaving for school sometime this morning, right?" Tanya asked, her voice indulgent rather than stern.

Edward wrapped his arms around her and placed one last kiss on top of her head. "She's right. We're going to be late if we don't hurry."

"I really don't care if we're late."

"Nor do I. However, I am trying to make a good impression on your father. Making you late for school because I don't want to stop kissing you will hardly be helpful in that regard."

Without taking her eyes off Edward, Bella addressed Tanya, "You won't rat us out, will you?"

"Who? Me?" Tanya winked at Bella, and grinned mischievously. "I do know how to keep a secret, you know. Besides, Edward, the poor girl hasn't even eaten yet. And, as you know, breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Edward looked at Bella and tilted his head to the side. "You're serious. You want to ditch school?"

"Why not? You're only young once, right?"

"So they say. OK, then." He dropped her books back onto the end table he'd picked them up from a moment earlier. "You've persuaded me. What do you want to do?"

Bella wrapped her arms around his waist and laced her fingers together against the small of his back. "I want to talk."

Edward leaned back against the door and pulled her against him. She took note of the disappointment laced with suspicion in his eyes. "Talk? About what?"

"You. I want to talk about you." She noticed as the suspicion grew and apprehension replaced the disappointment in those once green eyes.

"Me?"

"Mhmmm."

"Not much to tell really. We hardly need to skip the whole day just for that. Could pretty much have covered it on the way in the car."

_Somehow, I very much doubt that, _Bella thought to took him by the hand and led him to the couch, curling up next to him and wresting her head against his shoulder. _It's his story to tell in his own time. I can't rush him, but I can encourage him._

Once again, Tanya excused herself as she had on Tuesday, explaining again she had some errands to run and left them alone. Though neither Edward nor Bella noticed it, there was a distinctly conspiratorial gleam in her eyes as she glanced back at them on the couch together, a radiantly happy smile across her lips.

Edward reached behind them for the afghan folded on the back of the couch and wrapped it around her. Bella snuggled closer to him under the blanket as he tucked her in. "You were born in Chicago?" she asked.

He leaned back slightly, angling his body toward her and looked at her suspiciously. Or possibly in confusion. Confused suspicion. "You already know that."

"When is your birthday?" _Will he say June or October? Or something else altogether? _

Only because she was watching him so carefully did Bella see the look that passed behind Edward's honey-colored eyes. He was on his guard. Why? It was a normal question for a girl to ask her boyfriend. But this wasn't a normal situation, and her boyfriend was over one hundred years old at the oldest or over ninety at the youngest. Was it a learned reaction from the past nearly one hundred years of his life? An ingrained discomfort in answering personal questions? How many people had asked him that over the years? However many had, Edward had had to lie to each and every one of them. They'd only been in Forks for a couple years. How long had they been in Alaska before that? How often did they have to move? Every four years? Five? Six? _Every new town, a new identity. Name? Address? Phone number? _ _Date of birth? Social security number? Last school attended? Last grade completed? _All the same questions her father had had to answer when he'd registered her for school in Forks but over and over and over in an endless cycle, and each answer a new lie.

It was a moment before Edward answered, and Bella suspected he'd been debating with himself before speaking. Finally he came to a decision, but he looked away from her before responding. His voice was soft, hesitant.

"June."

Bella's heart was hammering, and Edward was still looking away.

"June what?" she asked.

Edward's voice was softer, more hesitant still. "Twentieth."

He'd chosen to tell her the truth, and Bella was overjoyed. He knew she knew when his birthday was, and he'd chosen to tell her the truth anyway. Bella hoped that meant that, whatever the reason he couldn't tell her the truth, deep down part of him wanted her to know it was him. How could she phrase the next question to encourage that part of him without causing him to shut down? She bit her lip as she ran various wordings over in her mind. "Were you…. You said the other day you barely remembered your mother. Were you very young when the Cullens adopted you?"

"It was a very long time ago."

The answer was evasive, but it was honest. There were so many questions, but Bella knew Edward was going to have to offer her the answers to most of them in his own time.

He continued on his own as she debated what to ask next. "It was just Carlisle, though."

Bella looked at him encouragingly, silently urging him to continue.

"He hadn't met Esme yet. It was just the two of us for a few years."

"How did they meet?"

"At the hospital. She'd… been injured in a fall."

"And after she recovered, they fell in love?"

Edward smiled and nodded.

_She'd been injured in a fall. Where her injuries life-threatening?_ Keeping her voice as sympathetic as possible, Bella asked, "Your birth parents died?"

He nodded his head and looked away, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "They…. My…." Behind him, Bella wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his back, placing a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Shhh, love. It's OK. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He shook his head, and Bella could tell he was looking straight ahead. "I don't really remember them at all. My father hardly at all. My mother… I have more memories of her, but still, very few."

"They were good people, Edward, and they loved you very much. Your mother… she was a remarkable woman."

Edward turned suddenly and looked at her, his eyebrows drawn slightly together.

_Oops. Too much information. _Bella covered her slip quickly. "They'd have to have been to have had you for a son."

A tense moment passed, and Edward relaxed, looking satisfied at her elaboration, but Bella didn't dare ask him anything else today. After a moment what she'd said seemed to register with Edward as not just an explanation for her first comment but for the compliment it was, and she suspected that if he was still human, he might even be blushing.

_He compliments me all the time, even before Tuesday, but I compliment him once, and he goes all shy and bashful. _Words she once wrote to him echoed in her mind—_I'm a 21__st__ century girl, Edward. I told you we're more forward than in 1918. Get used to it. _

A sudden and terrible thought occurred to Bella. _He said he barely remembers his parents. His mother he remembers more than his father, but still very little. But what about _me_? Does he remember _me_?_ Bella's heart broke in her chest at the thought that sometime during the past ninety-one years Edward might have lost what they'd experienced, what they shared. The feeling of needing to grab him and run intensified. Run and hide. Keep him safe. Above all—_keep him_.

_But the things he's said, the things he's let slip and his reactions, the poem, he said his dearest friend sent him that poem after his father died. He has to remember. He remembers what was in our letters._

But that wasn't true. He'd repeated or mentioned some of the things that were in _her_ _letters to him_, but that meant nothing. He has those letters; his cousins couldn't find them. Dr. Cullen had to have taken them when he broke into their house to get his things, things that were rightfully his. But Edward had never made any kind of reference to or repeated anything he'd told her in _his letters to her_.

_He doesn't remember. He doesn't remember me. _Us. _He doesn't remember _us_. His family. Little Charlie. "I don't remember my grandparents." He said it so casually, like it was something he'd long ago accepted. Mic, Laura, Tommy… so many cousins. Clara's wedding. He doesn't remember that he was supposed to be a groomsman in his cousin Clara's wedding. He doesn't remember that he was planning a trip with his mother to New York to visit their family the following summer. He doesn't remember his friends. He said he has more memories of his mother. He didn't say _he remembered _her better, he said _he has more memories _of her. He has Dr. Cullen's memories of her. Dr. Cullen told him about her. _

Bella realized she was going to have to start listening between the lines. During the last century, Edward had learned to phrase things so that his words had a deeper meaning, a hidden meaning. Most people didn't really listen to what other people said. They heard what they expected to hear, not what was actually said. She had to learn to hear that hidden meaning.

"Bella? Dearest? What is it?"

Against her will, Bella's eyes filled with tears, and concern covered Edward's face. "Please, Bella. Tell me what is wrong."

_You don't remember falling in love with me._ She squeezed her eyes shut, and her tears spilled down her cheeks. She felt his cold finger trail down her face. "You don't remember. Your birth parents I mean, you don't remember them."

_They deserve to be remembered. They were good people. You deserve to know them. _So many letters, she had so many letters from him talking about his family. Important things. His father's fight with his brother, and then his own fight with his uncle after his father's death. Little things. His mother's favorite candy had been violet Life Savers. _One day, I promise you, Edward, one day, I will give them back to you as much as I can. _

Bella curled up against his side again, and Edward held her as she cried for everything he'd lost. "I love you, Edward."

He looked down at her and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. "I know. I love you, too."

"They loved you, too."

He answered her slower this time. "I know. Carlisle has told me as much as he could about them."

Bella nodded her head, satisfied—her earlier anger at Dr. Cullen now completely faded away. He had done as much as he could for Edward always, first when he was human, and now when he was a vampire like himself. He couldn't save him one way so he'd saved him another way, the only way he could. And because of that, Edward was right where he belonged. With her.

_A vampire. He really is a vampire. _Bella's head was resting against his chest; just as earlier, she could hear his slow, steady breathing—but nothing else.

Crying always made her eyes red and irritated, and she rubbed at them.

Edward began softly humming the same song she had so quickly come to recognize and to love. One day, she would have to ask him who it was by, but right now she was feeling tired, and she couldn't suppress the yawn that was fighting its way free. His fingers were trailing up and down her arm, and her eyes were falling shut. She'd been up so late last night and in spite of how surprisingly soundly she'd slept, she still felt tired. All the pain of the last several months was nothing but a memory. As she sat in Edward's arms, he continued to hum to her. The feeling was so pleasant, and she was so perfectly comfortable, it wasn't long before Bella was drifting off to sleep.

Her last thought before going fully under was that she was glad Edward was a vampire and not a zombie, like she'd briefly feared the night before.

_Fangs, I can handle. But as much as I love you, Edward, I do think I'd freak out if your limbs just all of a sudden started falling off._

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Well, what did you think? I've had reviewers say Bella should be seriously hacked off when she learns the truth. For me, I felt that anger more naturally fell to Dr. Cullen rather than Edward—Edward didn't do this, it was done to him—but then Bella had to admit that if she'd been there and had known what Dr. Cullen was, she'd have begged him to save Edward, just as his mother did. I never really saw Bella as being angry at Edward or her father for not telling her. Having had to keep a secret herself, I think she understands that it is sometimes necessary. I don't think Charlie would tell her. As the mate of a vampire himself, I think he understands that it's between Bella and Edward—even as her father, it's just not his place to tell her. I think that he also understands that being told the truth before she was ready to accept it could potentially be terrible, especially after her breakdown last summer, which he has no idea that Edward's supposed death was the reason for. Those are my thoughts, drop me a review and tell me yours!

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Notes—

The original sale price of _A Mysterious Affair at Styles_ really was $2.


	35. Chapter 35

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. The winner will be announced on December 28th.  
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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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"Heeelllloooo…. Earth to Bella. Come in Bella," Angela teased as Bella stared sullenly at the windows across the cafeteria. She jumped when Jessica snapped her fingers in front of her face, and the rest of the kids at the table laughed. Angela had clearly been saying something to her, but Bella hadn't heard a word of it. It was hard to concentrate on anything when the sun was out. Never could Bella have believed five weeks ago that she would come to dread sunny days, but then, five weeks ago she hadn't believed in vampires either. But vampires were real, and sunny days were, perforce, Edwardless days.

She sighed and looked away from the window. Who would've thought Forks could possibly have so many sunny days? Just last week there'd been two. _Two._ Two sunny days in Forks—and back to back no less. Now today the sun was already out again just a week and a half later. She was sure there hadn't been this many sunny days in Forks until now.

"Sorry, Ang, what did you say?"

"We were talking about going to Port Angeles to get our dresses for prom."

"Oh. Um. It's a little early isn't it? It's only March."

All the girls at the table rolled their eyes, and the boys agreed emphatically that that was exactly what they had said.

Jessica drawled, "You _have_ to go _early_. We don't want all the _good_ dresses to be taken." Her voice held the impatient exasperation of having to explain some very basic principle to someone being willfully obtuse.

The bell rang, and everyone rose to throw their garbage away and head to their next class. Bella's next class was biology.

Which she was supposed to have with Edward.

She sighed and looked back over her shoulder at the sun streaming in through the windows on the far side of the cafeteria. _Stupid sun. _

"Soooo?"

"I'm sorry, Jess, what did you say?"

"Hello? Dress shopping? In Port Angeles, remember? We've only been discussing it for the last half hour. When's good for you? This weekend's no good. Ugh, I have a big family thing on Saturday, and Angela is busy Sunday. _Lauren's _mother is taking _her_ to _Seattle."_ She sighed wistfully, like a child with her nose pressed against the window of a candy shop. "I wish _I_ could go to Seattle for my dress."

"I'm not going to prom," Bella responded distractedly as she checked her notebook to make sure she had her bio notes with her.

Jessica and Angela stopped dead in their tracks, looking back and forth between each other and Bella. It was Angela who recovered first. "You're _not going_?"

Bella hadn't realized the other girls had stopped and was a few steps ahead of them. She turned and waited for them. "No. Why?"

Jessica was beside herself. "_Not_ going? Not _going?_ Bella, _you have _to go to prom_._" Bella was under no illusions that it was her who in Jessica's opinion _had to _go to prom, something which Jessica confirmed for her a moment later. "You landed _the hottest guy_ on the entire _West Coast_. You _have _to go to prom. You _can't_ not go."

Bella was spared any more of Jessica's feelings on the matter when they went their separate directions, but she knew she'd pay for the temporary reprieve when she got to their shared gym class next period. She made her way to the desk she normally shared with Edward and dropped her books unceremoniously onto it. Bella propped her head up on the palm of her hand and looked at Edward's empty seat beneath the window. As if mocking her, the sun was shining directly on it.

_Stupid sun._

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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_Miss me?_ the text from Bella read.

Edward had been surprised the first time Bella had texted him during the school day on one of his and his siblings forced absences—surprised, but delighted. But his delight had soon turned to anguish. He had been hunting with his family and had been out of range, causing him to not get the multiple messages she'd sent him until several hours later. It had been night before he'd gotten them, and he'd immediately called her, begging her forgiveness for not answering her sooner, only to have her playfully tease him for worrying. "My silly Edward," she'd laughed. "You always have worried too much. You're camping. I knew you would be out of range. I didn't expect you to get them until you were on your way back." What she'd said next had made his long silent heart pang. "I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you."

Now, he made sure to never wander out of range for longer than absolutely necessary when hunting, much to his brothers' annoyance as this meant no glacier diving.

Unsurprisingly, these short missives had immediately become the highlight of the otherwise bleak hours spent without his mate, and Edward spent his time counting down the minutes until the end of whatever class she was in at the moment so that she would have time to send him another short message.

This, he thought, must have been what it was like when he'd been human and anxiously awaiting her next letter.

Having hunted as quickly as possible and hurried back to Forks, Edward hid in the trees near the school, as close as he dared go to the edge of the woods. His Bella had just gotten to biology, and he could see her through the eyes of the rest of the class, staring gloomily at his sun-lit seat. He heard the teacher approaching the class and hurried his response, _More than I can say_.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"Do you think he'll like them?" Tanya asked.

Bella responded, "Box seats right behind home plate for the home opener? Yeah, I think he'll like'em. I think he might cry, actually."

Tanya smiled as she iced the birthday cake she'd made for Charlie. "I'm so glad. And Bella, I'm glad you're coming with us. I know you're not a sports fan. It will mean so much to him."

Bella took the bowl from Tanya after she finished icing the cake, settling down with it and a spoon at the kitchen table. Tanya glanced at the bowl in Bella's hands as she started decorating the iced cake with shaved chocolate, asking, "Is it good?"

Her eyes closed in appreciation, Bella moaned her approval.

"I'll just take your word for it," Tanya said, satisfied by the non-verbal answer.

Although nothing had ever been said outright regarding the secret she was now part of, Bella was sure Tanya was somehow aware she knew. More than once over the past weeks, starting with the chicken scampi and garlic bread she'd made for dinner the next night, Tanya had done something or made a cryptic comment clearly intended to answer her unasked questions. So far, it seemed like pretty much every single bit of vampire superstition was dead wrong. No pun intended.

Once, while she'd been studying, Tanya had come into her room to ask her an unimportant question and made a point of looking in the mirror to fix her already perfect hair.

Another time, she'd taken the picture of her that her father had shown her last Easter when she'd visited off the mantle and shown it to her under the pretense of asking Bella if she should get a different frame.

Tanya might not have come out and said, "Now Bella, this is what you need to know about vampires," but she was slowly and unobtrusively telling her exactly that. Garlic, no reflection, and unable to be photographed were all in the myth column. Apparently, human food was a no no.

Bella finished the last of the icing and took the bowl to the sink. "Actually, baseball's not so bad I guess. It's grown on me a little." Two could play at this game.

"Oh? Really? Why is that? Phil?" Tanya smirked at her as she asked, indicating she knew perfectly well any interest she had developed in the sport had nothing to do with her step-father's career.

"No. Not Phil."

"No?"

"No. An… old friend of mine taught me a little about the game."

"Oh? An old friend?"

"Mhmmm. A _very_ old friend. He's a White Sox fan. Saw them in the World Series with his father once."

Tanya's reaction was not what Bella had expected. She spun around, wide eyed, and her hand came to her mouth. She'd moved so quickly, Bella needed a moment to recover from the shock. Tanya had moved so fast she'd actually blurred.

_Right_, she thought to herself, _add very, _very_ fast to the 'real' column. _

Tanya stared at her, and Bella could see by the way her eyes crinkled that she was smiling behind her hand, whether for finally shocking her or for what she had just told her, or both, Bella didn't know.

"He did?" Tanya asked, her surprise strengthening Bella's growing fear that when Edward had become a vampire, he had lost much of his human self. Edward didn't remember going to the World Series with his father. If he did, he would certainly have told his new family about it sometime during the last century.

"Yeah he did," Bella confirmed, going on to explain further, "Then the next year, he and his father went to a game together for his birthday in June. He told me once how much that game meant to him, how happy he was that they had the chance to go." A lump formed in Bella's throat, and she swallowed past it. "His father died suddenly a month later."

Tanya's eyes closed, and her smile faded away. Softly, she said, "I'm glad they had that time together."

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"So? Do you have any big weekend plans with the boyfriend?" her mother asked.

"Nothing special. Just hanging out. It's raining tonight."

"It _always _rains in Forks, Bella. You should know that by now." Bella couldn't help rolling her eyes at her mother. _Yeah, I thought that too, but you'd be surprised how much the sun comes out when you don't want it to anymore._ "Tomorrow's supposed to be dry. We're going to Port Angeles with a group of kids from school. See a movie and walk along the pier. Get something to eat. There's a seafood restaurant there everyone talks about, and there's an observation tower at the end of the pier. The view is supposed to be amazing."

"That sounds nice. Nothing just you and the boyfriend though?"

"He has a name, Mom."

"Sooorrrrry," Renee drawled like a teenager. "Nothing just you and _Edward _then?"

"Just watching a movie at his house. He's picking me up in a little while. You should see their collection. They must have every movie ever made."

"His parents will be home?"

"His father works nights at the hospital. I already told you that."

"But what about his mother? His mother will be there?"

"Yes, Mom. Esme will be there."

"Good."

Bella knew from experience over the past few weeks that there was more her mother was going to say and braced herself for it.

"Bella…. Honey, you are being careful, right? You're being safe? Using protection?"

_Oh, God. Not again_. "Mom, really. Please, don't worry about it. It's not an issue. Edward is… old fashioned." _Very old fashioned. Early 1900's old fashioned. _

Bella smiled in spite of how uncomfortable her mother made her feel when she brought up the subject of birth control. Especially since her father and Tanya were downstairs, and one of the things she'd learned from Tanya recently was that, apparently, vampires had exceptionally good hearing—like, able to hear a pin drop a block away exceptionally good.

"It _is_ an issue, Bella, and _I do _worry about it. Baby, I know he's…. very good looking…" Bella smirked as her mother struggled to find words to describe how indescribable Edward was. "But, honey, don't let him push you into anything you're not ready for. Stand up for yourself. Be strong. Don't let one night ruin your life. I know what it's like to be young and think you're in love and that everything will always be wonderful and he'll always be at your side. But, baby, it doesn't always work out that way. You don't want to find yourself alone at two in the morning with a crying baby and dirty diapers."

Bella bristled, not so much at her mother's assumption that Edward would abandon her, but that she had said it as though her father had abandoned them when, really, it had been the other way around, and she was shorter with her mother than she meant to be. "Mom, really. You don't even know Edward. You've never met him. Dad has, and he trusts him. Edward is a gentleman. He's never, _never _tried anything, so please stop making him out to be something he's not."

Bella was tempted to tell her mother that what she was so afraid of could never happen—that she would never carry Edward's child because he could never father one—just to get her to drop the subject once and for all, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Even though he had never told her directly, it would be a violation of his trust, and she knew it. Besides, her mother would only concentrate on her, "Pregnant isn't the worst thing you could get if you're not careful, Bella" speech.

Her mother did drop the subject anyway in an attempt to keep the peace. "Okay, okay."

Bella heard Phil say something in the background, and after a brief pause, her mother started to say goodnight. "Are you really sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Really, it's fine. I can come visit any time. It doesn't have to be Easter. Phil getting called up is huge. Go. I'll come when you get settled."

"It is exciting, isn't it? And Florida, Bella—Florida! I'm sure you'll get used to the humidity, and we can go to the beach every day, and..."

Renee's voice droned on, and Bella felt a sudden panic that her mother was under the mistaken impression that when she and Phil moved to Florida, she would be joining them. Bella hated being away from Edward even just for the few days here and there he had to stay away when the sun was out, and the prospect of leaving for five days over Easter to visit her mother had been making her feel sick. She felt ashamed to admit it, even to herself, but when her mother had asked if Bella could come visit a different time-because Phil had been called up to the majors, and they would be moving to Florida over Easter-all Bella had felt was the most profound relief imaginable.

Her mother obviously felt horrible about having to change their plans, but all she felt was incredible relief.

She would still have to go eventually, Bella knew, still have to leave Edward for a little while eventually, but at least it wasn't now. She would have to deal with that later, but for now, she didn't want to think about it.

But if her mother thought she would be moving to Florida permanently… that presented problems. She would have to find a way to gently make it clear that she already was home; Forks was home now. _That's not true, though. It's not Forks that's home. It's Edward. Edward is home._ "I'm sure, Mom. It's fine, really. Go to Florida and get settled in. I'll come visit when you're ready."

They talked for a few more minutes before saying good night, and the disappointment in her mother's voice was obvious and made her feel horribly guilty. After hanging up, Bella sat on her bed, looking at a picture of her and her mother taken in front of their house before they'd left for her wedding last November. Bella hated hearing the disappointment in her mother's voice; it seemed there was just no way she could be a good daughter to both of her parents at the same time. She took a deep breath and resolved that once her mother and Phil were settled in Florida, she would go and visit and, just like her mother said, they would go to the beach every day.

When Bella went downstairs, Edward was just pulling up in front of the house, and she felt her heart skip a beat as she saw him through the window. He still managed to take her breath away. Just knowing it was really him and they were really together, everything else faded away.

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"Didn't you just _love_ it? Wasn't it just _so_ romantic?" Jessica gushed as they stood to leave the theater.

"Oh, yeah. It was great." Mike sounded less than pleased they had gone to the romantic comedy the girls had wanted instead of the action movie the boys had wanted.

Jessica hooked her arms through Bella's and Angela's and led them toward the movie theater lobby like a queen leading her court as she continued to rave about the movie. Bella could still hear Mike grumbling under his breath as he followed along behind them, but she didn't think Jessica was paying enough attention to notice. As usual, Jess seemed much more interested in herself than in what anyone else might be saying.

"Totally believable. She's totally hot and he's a complete dork. Yeah, I can see that really happening," Mike had muttered, mostly to himself.

Bella looked down to the ground to hide her smile. Wasn't that her and Edward the other way around? She was completely plain, and she knew it. She was too skinny and too pale and her hair was nothing special. On top of that she was completely uncoordinated. But it didn't matter; Edward loved her anyway. Edward was the most beautiful being she'd ever seen. And it didn't matter; she'd loved him without ever knowing what he looked like, and she'd love him just as much had he been short, fat, bald, and had pimples.

She looked back at Edward over her shoulder, and they smiled at each other as he took his phone out of his pocket to turn it back on. The phone vibrated in his hand and rang immediately. As Jessica babbled on and on, Bella glanced back at him again, wanting to free herself and wait for him, but he waved at her and told her to go on. "Alice called. I'll catch up."

Reluctantly, Bella allowed herself to be swept along toward the lobby, but she kept turning back toward Edward. Something felt wrong, off.

He'd called Alice back, but he wasn't saying anything; he just stood there holding the phone. There was a look of seriousness on his face that caused a thread of concern to weave its way through Bella's mind. Something was definitely wrong. Alice had known they were at the movies; she'd known his phone would be off. Why, then, had she called when she'd known he wouldn't get the call 'til later? Why hadn't she waited till the movie was over and they would be out of the theater?

Bella was just about to pull her arm free from Jessica's grip and go back to him when the three girls turned the corner toward the lobby, and her eyes, still used to the dark of the theater, squinted at the bright light. Her heart froze, and she was unable to look away from the front of the theater. The sun had come out while they'd been watching the movie. It had promised to be a dry day, but the clouds had been expected to remain all day. The sky was indeed stormy gray, but the sun had found the one small blue patch in the thick clouds and was shining brightly through it.

Bella's mouth went dry, and her legs felt weak.

Sunlight was streaming through the floor to ceiling windows at the front of the lobby. Edward was about to walk right into the sun, and he had no idea. And she had no way to warn him.

The way the movie theater was laid out, the lobby was not visible from the hallway to the theaters until you turned the corner, and by then it would be too late. Bella drew back into the dark of the hallway and away from the sun, as if she herself had been burned. Her stomach clenched, and she felt sick. She had no idea what to do. She had no idea what would happen if Edward was exposed to direct sunlight. Nightmare visions of him on fire filled her mind, and she nearly collapsed.

_Don't be stupid_, she scolded herself_. This isn't Hollywood. He was there in the woods last August and the sun was out. Don't panic. Calm down. _

"Bella? Do you feel alright? You don't look so good." Jessica truly sounded concerned, and her friends gathered around her. No, she didn't feel alright. She was afraid she might be sick, and her legs felt like they might give out beneath her.

Mike stepped forward and put his arm around her, supporting her weight, just as Edward called out, "Bella!"

Trying to swallow down a wave of nausea, Bella lifted her head to see Edward hurrying down the hall toward her—hurrying down the hall and toward the sun. _Damn vampire hearing._ She had to stop him. She had to keep him away from the sun. She pulled herself free from Mike and took two steps toward Edward before collapsing into his arms just a few feet from the corner and breathing a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong? What happened?" His voice sounded terrified.

"I don't feel well."

Edward pressed his hand to her forehead and asked again what had happened. The cold of his hand felt wonderful.

"It just…. I don't know…. All of sudden. I felt fine and then just…."

Edward's shout had drawn attention, and people were staring at them—staring at her vampire boyfriend, who was about three feet from stepping into the sun. Remembering that he had been in the sun once before, last August when he'd saved her from the bear, calmed the worst of Bella's fears, but she still had no idea what would happen if he stepped into the sun. _And he was concealed in the woods then. Not in the open. He wasn't in the full sun. The trees screened it, at least a little bit. _

Even remembering that, she knew there had to be some reason they all went into hiding on sunny days, and Bella had no intention of finding out what that reason might be while they were surrounded by so many people. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, but they felt like rubber bands. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and tried to push him backward, further into the hallway and away from the sunlight, but it was like trying to push a three-foot-thick brick wall. He didn't budge an inch.

"I'll take you home," he said, stroking her back gently.

Relived, Bella slumped against him and nodded her head mutely against his chest. Although the elevator to the parking lot was in the lobby, the lobby was quite large and the elevator was at the opposite side from the windows in the front. The sun's rays didn't reach that far. They would be far enough way. They would be safe there. Edward would be safe there.

Bella heard a theater employee approach and ask if they needed any help just as she felt the floor disappear and the room spin. Edward had lifted her into his arms, and she nuzzled her face against the wonderful coolness of his neck, inhaling deeply through her nose and letting his scent fill her lungs.

Edward assured the man there was no problem, that his girlfriend suddenly felt sick, and he was taking her home. She loved hearing him say that she was his girlfriend—she only wished it was to the girl from earlier at the counter who'd made eyes and smiled seductively at him when they'd arrived and he'd bought their tickets and not some random man.

Her friends all said how sorry they were she was sick, and Angela offered to go back with them, but Edward refused, insisting she go on and have a good time at dinner. He still had no idea the sun had come out, but he moved to the far side of the hallway and walked closely against the wall before they'd even entered the lobby.

Briefly, Bella wondered if he somehow instinctively knew the sun was out without having to see it. Could he feel it, she wondered? Was it some kind of built-in sixth sense? A self-preservation instinct? She released a breath as she saw that she'd been right; they would stay well clear of the sun's rays walking to the elevator. "I'm feeling better now, Edward. I can walk."

"How about you humor me just this once, please? You're bone white." His voice trembled. He kissed her forehead and held her tighter, not setting her down until she was in the passenger seat of his car.

Before she was even able to take a breath, Edward was already opening the driver's door, and she mentally underlined _very fast _on her growing list of vampire traits.

Truthfully, that one she'd noticed before but hadn't thought too much about. She supposed that was typical. People noticed things, things that didn't seem right, but didn't stop to really think about them. And even if they did, who in the 21st century was going to come up with "vampire" as an explanation?

Alien, maybe. But not vampire.

Sitting behind the wheel, Edward started the car but didn't back out. He gripped the wheel tightly, and Bella could feel the tension rolling off him. She was still worried about the sun and reasoned he must have been, too. The parking lot was covered, and they were completely shielded from the sun where they were, but she could clearly see it was still shining brightly. Would the darkly tinted windows be enough to protect him once they were on the road? Was he trying to think of something that would allow him to stay safely in the shade that wouldn't sound contrived?

He licked his lips and ran his hand over his face. Whatever the reason was they had to stay out of the sun, it was big. Clearly, Edward was afraid. His lips were moving rapidly, but he wasn't saying anything. Did it burn them? Not fire and flames burn—but scald and blister burn?

Bella looked out the car window; surely, the sun couldn't stay out long. Except for the one small pocket of blue it had managed to find, the sky was completely gray. They wouldn't have to wait long. Soon, it would have to go back behind the clouds where it couldn't hurt him. Bella was about to ask if they could just sit in the car for a few minutes until her stomach settled when Edward asked, "Bella, what in heaven's name happened back there? One minute you were fine… the next…." He sounded like a man who had just lost everything, and Bella bit her lip trying to think of something to say. He wasn't afraid of the sun—he was afraid for her, because he believed she was sick. He drew a shaky breath and ran his hands over his face again; he tried to continue but was clearly unable to go on.

"Hey...," she attempted to reassure him. When he didn't look at her, Bella leaned toward him and touched his face. "It's OK. I'm fine. Really. Much better already." It wasn't like she could just blurt out that she'd had a major panic attack and nearly fainted because she'd been terrified that for all she knew, he'd been about to burst into flames. Bella ran her hand down the side of his face. "Edward, please look at me." When he did, the look in his eyes broke her heart. It was no wonder—with his past, of course her becoming so sick so suddenly would scare him terribly. Not only was there his own illness, but Bella wasn't sure if Edward remembered anything of what had happened to either his father or Mic. "Look at me. I'm fine. I promise."

He shook his head. "Hu…. People don't get sick like that so suddenly without reason."

Bella looked away for a moment—he'd almost slipped again. Edward had almost said _humans_ don't get sick like that suddenly for no reason. She pretended to not have noticed and inhaled deeply before looking back to him. At least, she thought, he seemed to believe she was fine _now_; it was what had caused her to get sick so suddenly in the first place that had him so worried. "I'm fine. Really. Maybe just…. I don't know, maybe my blood sugar just fell or something."

Edward's head snapped up and he was perfectly still for several seconds before nodding his head. "You need to eat something. Sugar. You need sugar." He sounded like he was answering a test question.

Edward started the car, peeled out of the spot, and sped toward the gate. Once on the road he sped through Port Angeles, weaving through traffic and tearing through stop signs and red lights. On the highway his speed increased further still, as if he was on a race track, and Bella's heart rate increased along with it until she dared to glance at the speedometer.

"Oh my God!" she shouted.

Edward's body went perfectly ridged, and he looked at her with fear written all over his face.

"Slow down! You're going a hundred miles an hour!"

He looked dazed, confused, before finally asking, "What?"

He never took his eyes off her. He looked like he couldn't understand what she'd just said.

"Slow down! God, Edward, you're going over a hundred miles an hour! AND KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!"

Bella looked anxiously out the side window at the trees whipping by, just waiting for the sirens behind them.

"I have to get you home," Edward protested. "I need to get you food. You need to eat something."

"You need to get me home in one piece, too!"

That seemed to get through to him, but instead of making him slow down, it only served to make him look abashed. Edward looked like a very young little boy who'd been scolded for something he hadn't done. "I would never let anything happen to you, Bella. Not anything."

Bella was unable to sit still and was alternately looking out the side window, back to Edward, out the back window, and at the speedometer—which still registered over one hundred.

"I know, Edward. I know. But you're scaring me. Please, slow down. You're driving too fast."

"I always drive this fast."

"Not with me in the car you don't, and would you PLEASE watch the road!" Bella knew she had to calm down. If she became hysterical, it would only make him drive faster still.

Edward slowed down somewhat but was still doing over eighty. "I hate driving this slowly. I need to get you home."

"This is slow? You're still going twenty miles over the speed limit."

"Bella, you didn't see how sick you looked, how sick you were. I'll feel much better after I get you home and get you some food. And I really think you should see Carlisle. When was the last time you ate? Are you taking any medications? Have you ever been tested for diabetes?"

"Edward, please believe me. I'm fine. I promise. If you're so worried about getting me something to eat just get off the next exit and pull into a restaurant."

Edward closed his eyes and mumbled something to himself too quickly and too quietly for her to understand.

"OPEN YOUR EYES!" she pleaded.

Looking angry at himself, Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course. You're right. I apologize. A restaurant. I should've…. I'm so sorry, Bella, I should've…."

Bella tried to hide the smile she couldn't fight by looking out the window again. Of course a vampire wouldn't have thought of a restaurant—going out for a bite to eat meant something entirely different to him.

The sun was once again safely concealed behind thick gray clouds by the time Edward pulled into the parking lot of a little Italian restaurant a few minutes later. Just like at the theater, he was around the car to her door much too fast. His concern for her was overriding his mind to the point that he wasn't being careful. Thankfully, just like before, there was no one around to see it. The highway passed by the restaurant but was screened from view by trees, the parking lot was behind the building and not visible from the road, the windows in the restaurant were covered by blinds, and there was no one else in the lot at that moment.

As he opened the door for her, a couple exited the restaurant, and the girl's jaw dropped when she saw Edward. Bella spared a thought for the girl's poor date; it wouldn't be him who that girl was thinking about for the rest of the night.

They were met just inside the door by a hostess who seemed to have forgotten how to speak. Edward didn't give her time to regain herself and impatiently asked for a table to two. Instead of being upset by his rude tone of voice, the girl—Katelyn according to her name tag—brightened noticeably. She gave Bella a quick glance and seemed to determine that having to spend his evening with her was the cause of his annoyance, not her own insipidness.

The hostess smiled coyly up at him and actually had the gall to bat her eyelashes at him in front of Bella. "Of course, won't you follow me?" Bella was sure the girl didn't normally sway her hips that much when she walked.

The hostess tried every trick in the book to catch Edward's attention, and each one failed in its turn. Eventually, she retreated with a disappointed sigh only to be replaced a moment later by an overly eager waitress, who had clearly been told about the hot guy who'd just walked in if how far down her blouse was unbuttoned was any indication.

Just like the hostess, her persistent efforts were wasted. Edward never even looked at her. Not even when she bent over to pick up the pen she dropped. Twice.

He ordered two Cokes and asked her to give them a few minutes without ever taking his eyes off Bella. Once the waitress was gone he began the third degree. "How do you feel now? Are you having any problems with your vision? Any blurriness or double vision? How is your head? Does your head hurt?"

Bella felt as if she was at the doctor's office. "Edward, really, I'm fine. I promise."

"Bella, I…."

"Edward, enough. I promise, I'm fine. My vision is fine. My head is fine. I'll even let Carlisle give me an exam if it will make you feel better, but I promise, I'm fine." She leaned across the table and took his hands in hers. "You really do worry about me too much. You always have. You need to relax a little. Have some fun every once in a while."

Bella leaned back and picked up the menu, watching him over the top as she read it. "I don't know what I feel like." She bit her upper lip as she watched him slowly pick up his menu with a look of resignation in his eyes. A restaurant presented a problem she hadn't thought about. Tanya had made it clear they didn't eat food, but Bella didn't know if they couldn't—or could, but didn't. She briefly considered excusing herself to the ladies room, calling Tanya, and asking her point blank.

"Does anything look good to you?" Edward asked.

She answered that she wasn't really very hungry.

"Bella, you—"

She held up her hand, cutting off his protestations. "But I promise, I will eat."

Edward nodded his head, satisfied, and returned his attention to the menu.

The waitress returned with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Her question was directed to Edward, but he appeared to be grinding his teeth, and it was Bella who answered, asking for a few more minutes. The waitress seemed to have forgotten Bella was even there until she'd spoken. Giving one last suggestive smile toward Edward that went completely unnoticed by him, she left, disappointed.

If Bella hadn't seen the girl actually wink at him, she might feel sorry for her. But she had. And she didn't. She mentally smirked, wondering to herself what the hostess and waitress must be saying to each other right now, and she wished she knew what they were thinking. _They must be ready to spit nails._

"What are you thinking?"

Bella looked up at Edward from her menu. There was an antipasti for two that she thought would solve their problem. Just a minute ago she'd said she wasn't very hungry, but now that she'd actually looked at the menu, she realized she was starving. She had no doubt she could finish it by herself.

"Hmmm?"

"You had the most beautifully devious smirk on your face just now. It's not an expression I'm accustomed to from you. I just wondered what put it there."

The smirk on his own face was rather beautifully devious, Bella thought. She grinned and leaned across the table to whisper to him. She knew he'd hear her perfectly well if she'd whispered to him from the other side of the building, but she also knew how the two of them smiling at each other and leaning across the table toward each other would look to the waitress, who she was sure was watching. Bella looked at his hand resting on the table and traced her fingers along the veins on the back; he flipped his hand over to hold hers. Her smirk only grew, and she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I was just wondering what our waitress must be thinking right now."

She was glad to see him laugh. "Nothing intelligent. Nothing worth hearing, I assure you."

"You don't think so?"

"I would be very surprised if an intelligent thought ever passed through her mind."

"Edward, that's mean."

"Doesn't mean it's not true." He arched his eyebrow at her, and his voice was more playful than she'd ever heard him sound before. "Want to really give her something to think about?"

Before she had time to answer, Edward leaned further across the table and cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair and drawing her closer to him. He pressed his lips to hers, gently at first before growing more possessive.

Somewhere behind them, there was the loud crash of plates falling to the ground, and they broke apart, laughing.

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I hope you all liked the scene with Bella freaking out over the sun; I had that scene in my head before I started writing, and I'm so glad I was able to work it in.

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Drop me a review and let me know what you thought!

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A teaser for the next chapter can be found on Fictionators – Teaser Mondays, Twi Fic Central – Wednesdays, Twi & VD Fic Recs – Tuesday, and Twilight Fic Zone – Sunday. I will also try to visit the Sneak Peek campfire on A Different Forest on Monday night. It's the same teaser regardless of which site you see it on.

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Thanks for reading!


	36. Chapter 36

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. The winner will be announced on December 28th.  
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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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After studying her textbook, Bella closed her eyes and recited, "Salir, to leave. Preterite tense, salí, saliste, salió, salimos, salisteis, salieron. Imperfect indicative tense, salía, salías, salía, salíamos, salíais, salían. Future… saldré, saldrás, saldráaaahhh…."

Edward chuckled and his cold breath sent a shiver up her spine. "Saldráaaahhh?"

"You're not helping, Edward. I have a Spanish test tomorrow you know."

He brushed her hair off her shoulder and nuzzled his face against her neck, pressing gentle kisses near her collarbone. "Lo sé. Yo también," he answered, his accent perfect.

"Very funny. We're supposed to be studying."

"Your conjugation is perfect, Bella."

"I know the words, but I can never remember when to use which past tense. Why do they need two past tenses anyway?"

"You got seventeen out of twenty right on the practice test. You'll do just fine."

_Says Mr. I've-Been-Through-High-School-I-Don't-Remember-How-Many-Times_. Bella's eyes drifted shut, and she hummed as Edward blew his cold breath against her skin, raising goose bumps all the way down her back. They were in the room at the back of the third floor where Bella had woken up on her first visit to Edward's home. Both exterior walls of the room were a nearly seamless span of glass, giving an incredible view of the backyard and the mountains far in the distance. There was a small balcony beyond French doors with a bistro-style table with a mosaic marble top and two chairs. This room had quickly become one of Bella's favorite places in the world.

She had come to think of this room as theirs. In a family of seven, even in such a large house, it seemed odd that no one else seemed to ever use this room. It was almost as if it was reserved just for them—their own little hideaway. When they were together in their room, they could be the only two people in the world.

Edward played with the collar of her shirt as he kissed the back of her ear. "I love this color blue on you," he whispered.

It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on studying. If he kept this up, she was going to have no choice but to throw her notes aside and…. Right. Best not to think about that.

Edward seemed to be firmly stuck in the early 1900's when it came to anything physical. Kissing was good—_actually kissing was freaking fantastic—_but anytime it became too intense, too heated—which never seemed to take very long—he slammed the brakes on.

She understood his hesitance. She didn't agree with it, but she did understand it.

Whenever the time came that Edward told her everything, it was something they were definitely going to have to talk about. This was 2010, not 1918. But for right now, Bella had no choice but to accept it. "Spanish, Edward. Not all of us have an A average."

"Fine. Me encanta este color azul en ti. And your average is a high B, mi vida. You're hardly at risk of failing."

He traced down the side of her neck with the tip of his nose before kissing his way back up to her ear, and she tried to sit still. If she squirmed, he might stop. If she turned around and grabbed him, he would definitely stop. And she very decidedly did not want him to stop.

Edward chuckled softly and his cold breath against the shell of her ear was too much. "Like that?"

"Oh God, yes." Bella couldn't stop the moan that came from deep inside her, and she twisted around to capture his lips and slid her hand into his hair. She had kept the one small lock of his hair close to her for months when it had been all she believed she would ever hold of him, and now that he was really here with her she couldn't touch his hair enough. Running her hands through his hair was like her drug, and she was a very happy addict.

She shifted, trying to gain better access to his mouth. It was an awkward position, sitting as they were on the floor with Edward behind her and leaning against the black leather couch. She was sitting in the V formed by his legs and leaning back against his chest.

She ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip before biting his neck just below his ear. She could feel the vibration of his growl and she smiled. The sense of power she felt knowing _she_ was the one who made him make that sound was intoxicating. One of the things she'd learned so far from kissing Edward was that he had a very sensitive neck. He loved it when she bit his neck, when she dragged her nails roughly down it to his shoulders and back. Apparently Edward's neck was an erogenous zone. A vampire with a sexually sensitive neck—she couldn't decide if it was fitting or ironic.

He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other came up to cradle the side of her face. This would be it. He would pull away now. Anytime she bit down on his neck, he growled like that, but then his kisses slowed until he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers trying to calm himself, apology evident in his eyes. She didn't know if he felt the need to apologize for treating her in what the era he'd been born into would have taught him was a disrespectful manner or for having to stop, but she hated it either way. His Victorian outlook was part of who he was, but the last thing she wanted was for him to regret or feel guilt for what they did together for any reason.

He wasn't disrespecting her or taking advantage of her; she was an active participant and enjoyed every second of it. The way he held her made her feel cherished; the way he kissed her made her feel adored. The way he looked at her made her feel beautiful. He made her feel loved.

And if he felt they had to stop for… some other reason, she didn't understand it but she trusted him.

Except this time he showed no signs of stopping. His hand trailed down her neck and continued down her arm to wrap around her ribs. Bella wished they could deepen their kiss. She wanted to feel his tongue against hers. She wanted to learn every contour of his mouth, but again, she trusted he had a reason for never allowing that.

Bella had learned some things surreptitiously from Tanya, but she didn't delude herself into thinking that there wasn't much more she didn't know. She still didn't know what happened if they went outside in the sun or even if he had fangs. Fangs, she was forced to admit, would pose a problem were their kisses to get carried away.

Their kisses grew more passionate, more desperate than Edward had ever allowed before, and she moved to turn around so she could wrap her arms around him. He moved his arm at the same time she started to turn, causing the tips of his fingers to brush the underside of her breast.

From that simple, accidental touch, Bella saw stars. Fireworks exploded behind her closed eyes, and she heard a deep, surprised gasp that may have come from either of them. Or possibly both of them.

Except for his panting breath, Edward was as still as a statue behind her. Her own breath was coming in pants as well, and her heart was slamming itself against her rib cage. "Do that again," she begged.

If it was possible, he seemed to freeze even stiller than before. He could've been carved from stone.

"Edward, please… touch me." She pressed her face to his neck as well as she could in the position she was in and let her warm breath wash over his icy skin while pressing warm, wet kisses anywhere she could reach. Taking advantage of her knowledge of how sensitive his neck was may have been underhanded, but she didn't care. She had to feel that again. If just an accidental brushing of his fingertips could make her toes curl like that, what would it feel like if he touched her deliberately? "Edwardplease." The words came out in such a rush it could've been only one word. Edwardplease. Edwardplease. Best word in the English language, Bella decided. Edwardplease.

She wasn't above taking his hand and placing it on her breast herself if need be and was seriously considering doing just that when his hand moved barely an inch. At first it was tentative, just a hesitating repeat of his fingers just barely skimming her breast—similar to the way a person who had never swum before might dip a toe into a pool while building up the courage to jump in. Fireworks exploded in her head again, but she wanted more.

His hand moved a second time, just as slowly but more deliberately. The next time he moved, his hand grew more determined, and he moved further up the gentle swell of her breast. His fingers became more forceful, applying the gentlest of pressure as they slowly explored the curve of her breast, and his other hand slid up her stomach and over her ribs to trace along her other breast, giving it equal attention.

Bella wanted so badly to cry out, to moan, to do something, but she forced herself to be as still as possible for fear of making him stop. She could never have imagined anything could feel like this.

"Bella…. I love you."

She smiled against his neck. She'd never heard his voice sound that husky before. "I love you, too. I always have."

Edward soon grew bolder; he moved his fingers up along the sides of her breasts. This was the most exquisite torture Bella could imagine. Edward sitting behind her with his arms wrapped around her and fondling her breasts was the most erotic moment of her life. Still, she forced herself to not move, to be quiet. She knew with his sensitive hearing, he could hear her every breath, her every heartbeat, and she trusted that would be all the encouragement, all the confirmation he needed to know how badly she wanted this. She trusted that would be all the permission he needed, because she didn't really think she was capable of stringing more than two or three words together into a sentence.

Teasingly Edward moved slowly toward her hardened nipples, only to withdraw again, each time drawing closer. For someone who Bella was sure had never done this before, the man was a master. He must have a natural talent for it.

When he finally—_finally—_let his fingers trail across the sensitive nubs it was too much. Bella cried out and arched into his hands. She raised her shaking hands to the buttons on her blouse and quickly slid them open. "Edwardplease."

His magical fingers slid up to her shoulders and down her arms, pulling her blouse along with them before returning to trace all along the newly exposed skin. They played along the edge of her camisole, and she arched her back further, pressing herself into his hands, trying to wordlessly beg him to dip his fingertips below the thin cotton.

Edward let his fingers travel back to her nipples, continuing to trace around them and play with the hardened peaks before laying his hands over her breasts and kneading them gently. Bella licked her dry lips before raising her hands slowly to the thin straps of her camisole and tried to mentally beg Edward not to stop now.

His hands stilled momentarily before he pressed a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck. She was both desperate and terrified to do what she planned, and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her hands were shaking as she slowly slid the straps from her shoulders. Edward's kisses followed them as far as he could reach, his cold breath making goose bumps rise all over her.

She twisted around to face him, and time seemed to stand still as their lips met in a tender kiss. Her hands stilled while they kissed until she pulled away, and they moved together as one to let her rise to her knees and straddle him. This was the most intense moment of her life, and she wanted to watch him watch her. She wanted to see his face as she slid the fabric down and over her breasts. She wanted to see his eyes as they looked at her for the first time. The desire on his face and in those amber eyes was unmistakable and made her feel like the most beautiful, most sensuous being alive.

The white cotton was already dangerously low, only just covering her pale pink nipples, and when she returned her hands to her arms, his joined them. Her body was humming with her need for him, and seeing the lust in his eyes as they stared into hers before drifting down to her chest as together they lowered the thin camisole to her waist was almost too much. Hearing his whimper-like moan and seeing him lick his lips as his eyes raked over her bare chest pushed her closer to the edge. Her Edward looked like a blind man who could not only suddenly see but found himself in front of Venus or Aphrodite.

Edward raised his hands to her shoulders, tracing patterns on her skin, lovingly learning every inch of her. It was a beautiful agony as his hands slowly traveled downward. Bella arched into his touch and panted desperately as he traced down and between her breasts before circling around and following the gentle swell back up along the side. When he finally reached her nipples, Bella's head fell backward, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream. She wanted to cry out at the top of her lungs but she couldn't utter a sound. The electric charge she always felt when their skin touched shot through every inch of her body and pooled between her legs.

He teased and played with the oversensitive nubs, rolling them gently between his fingers and softly squeezing them, lightly dragging his nails across them and tracing circles around them. Nothing, Bella was sure, could ever surpass the feeling of his cold fingers leaving trails of fire on her skin, and she shivered from pure pleasure.

She realized with a shock just how wrong she'd been when Edward's icy, wet tongue replaced his fingers, lapping at and tasting her breasts. The scream Bella felt building since the moment his fingers touched her bare skin exploded from within her when his lips closed around the hardened pink buds. She arched backward as far as she could, pushing herself toward him, putting one of her hands on his leg behind her to brace herself; her other hand buried itself in his hair.

Edward licked and kissed his way from one breast to the other before bringing his hand back to kneed one while continuing to worship the other with his mouth.

Bella's body tingled all over. The feeling was indescribable. She felt like she was flying.

He wrapped an arm around her and drew her forcefully closer to him. She was pressed firmly against him and, still straddling him, there was no mistaking the hard length pressed intimately against her. Feeling him made her body throb with need for him.

Edward's hands were amazing. His mouth defied description. But now she wanted his chest pressed against hers. Bella leaned forward, forcing him to lean back against the couch and her hands went to his waist. This wasn't the slow sensual tease from earlier; this was a mad rush to get his sweater off as quickly as possible. He leaned forward slightly to allow her to pull it up and over his head, and she tossed it off to the side.

The sight of Edward's bare chest took her breath away. Now Bella slowed down. Now she took her time. She let her eyes drink him in. She wanted to savor every second of this. His muscles were well defined, but he was thinner than one would expect of someone so toned. He bore the signs of someone who had been very fit but had lost a significant amount of weight in a short period of time. The stress of the last month of his human life and the illness he'd suffered from for nearly a week had permanently left their mark on his body. Edward had worried to her many times that his mother hadn't been eating properly during that time; seeing his thin frame now confirmed the fear she'd had then that he hadn't been eating enough either, despite his reassurances.

There was a light dusting of fine copper hair—just enough to play with, to tug on. His nipples were pink and hard.

Remembering a comment he'd made once in a letter, Bella's eyes drifted to his shoulder, expecting to see a scar from when he'd been sick with chicken pox as a child, but his skin was flawless.

He leaned forward, pulling her against him again and capturing her lips. Their moans were swallowed by the other as their bare chests touched. Edward dropped his head back against the couch and his eyes fell shut. She watched his throat muscles work as he swallowed, and she ran her fingers over his Adam's apple. Bella continued along his collarbone to his shoulder, up and down his bare arm.

"You have no idea how that feels," Edward breathed.

Before she could tell him she would bet she did, Edward recaptured her lips, grabbing her upper arms tightly and running his hands up and down her back.

Wanting to learn every inch of him as he had her, she began on his neck, kissing and biting and licking. There was no pox scar on Edward's shoulder, but when she made her way back to his neck, Bella did find another scar she hadn't thought to look for. She hadn't seen anything, but she hadn't looked for it either. Even as curious as Bella was, she forced herself not to linger. She couldn't give him the impression she'd noticed anything unusual on his neck, or he might get spooked. The scar was right where she would've expected it, but it wasn't at all what she would've expected. What she'd felt against the tip of her tongue was a slight ridge, barely raised from the surrounding skin.

And it was crescent shaped.

Bella moved down his chest to within inches of Edward's nipples before moving back up and over to the other side. She kissed and bit along his collarbone, working her way first to his shoulder then back to his neck before moving slightly down his chest. With her face only inches from him and knowing exactly where to look and what to look for, Bella could just make out the pair of very faint curved lines. Never would she have noticed it without specifically looking for it. It was practically invisible.

Edward hadn't been bitten only once; he'd been bitten twice, once on each side of his neck.

And the bites looked like human bites, not the pinpricks she would have expected.

She filed the knowledge away to think about later and slid herself down his legs, moving into a better position. Instead of teasing him, she went directly to one of his nipples and bit down on it gently before soothing it with her tongue.

Edward sucked in a sharp breath as his body twitched and jerked. His breathing was ragged, and she loved it. She loved the power knowing she could reduce him to a quivering pile of goo gave her.

Bella ran her tongue against his chest and swiped it up and over the pink flesh. She moved to the other side of his chest and closed her mouth around his nipple, sucking it before releasing it and taking a few of the bronze hairs between her teeth and pulling gently.

Edward grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her onto her back. The feeling of him on top of her took away the last of her ability to think, and Bella instinctively wrapped her legs around him, holding him against her. He made the most delicious sounds as he rubbed his body deliberately against hers. She dragged her nails down his back before running them along the top of his jeans. She dipped one finger under the denim, then another, then another. Grateful the jeans were loose fitting, she slid both hands under the denim and grabbed him over his boxers. She withdrew her hands just far enough to run her fingers along the waistband of his boxers for a moment before sliding under to feel his skin against her hands. Touching Edward so intimately while he moved against her pushed Bella over the edge she'd been hanging from, and her body exploded as wave after wave of her orgasm rocked through her.

In her post-orgasm-bliss-filled brain, Bella thought she heard the sound of heavy fabric tearing, but then Edward followed her to his own climax, panting and gasping above her, and all but the sound and sight of him was forgotten.

When he stilled, she withdrew her hands and caressed up and down his back, his arms, his sides as their breathing and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. As Bella regained the ability to think clearly, she began to realize what they'd done together, how they'd gone from teasing, tempting kisses that Edward would inevitably stop before they got carried away, to….

Getting completely carried away.

She didn't regret a second of it. Not for herself, but she did worry Edward might regret it. The world he had once been part of was so night and day different from the only one she'd ever known. They'd been a couple now for almost two months. She thought most kids their age today would've been doing a hell of a lot more than what they'd just done by now.

But they weren't most kids, and Edward wasn't really "their" age.

He still hadn't moved from above her. He hadn't moved so much as an inch, actually, and Bella was afraid that was a bad sign. She traced the words "I love you" along his back and gently kissed him wherever she could reach. After a moment, he rolled onto his back and opened his arms to her. Relieved, she happily curled up against him.

Edward whispered into her hair, "I love you, too," but his voice was too quiet, and there was a remorseful quality in it that caused her to push herself up on her elbow enough to look at him. The way he'd said them, he'd made the words "I love you, too" sound like an apology, and Bella wanted to say or do whatever she could to get that apology out of his voice.

She wanted to tell him everything; she had no idea how to even bring up the subject of who and what he really was, but there could be no more secrets between them.

Before Bella could decide how to lead into the conversation they had to have, her cell phone rang, interrupting her. It was her mother's ring, but she had no intention of answering it right now; this conversation took precedence over everything else. Her mother and she could talk any time, but the conversation she needed to have with Edward couldn't wait. It was time to fess up. Time to come clean, as they say. The secret between them was too big. Edward needed to know that she already knew everything. She could hear him in her head singing the song he'd sung to her the first day he'd brought her to his house, "_I'm gonna give all my secrets away.…"_ He needed to know there were no secrets. She knew. And she didn't care. Taking a deep breath, Bella began without having any idea of what to say, hoping something would come to her if she could at least start talking.

"Edward, I—"

"You should answer that."

Bella bit her lip as she looked at Edward. His eyes were closed tight and he turned his face away from her.

"It's just my mom," she said. "I'll talk to her later."

Edward opened his pain-filled eyes and looked at her. His eyes never wavered from her face; he looked frightened. He looked like a child who'd just awoken from a nightmare but hadn't yet realized it was just a dream; it wasn't real, and he was safe in his bed. He looked as if he was afraid the monsters from his nightmare followed him even after he woke.

_No, _Bella understood, _he looks like he's afraid that _he is _the monster._

"Bella, she's your mother. Answer the phone."

She sighed. How could she not answer it now? Edward would never hear his mother's voice again. Did he remember the sound of it? Sometimes he said he barely remembered her, other times he would tell her something specific and detailed, down to the perfume or jewelry she'd worn. He sat up and handed her the blue shirt that had been dropped on the floor and forgotten—still without looking at her—before stepping outside onto the balcony.

"I'll give you some privacy."

Bella watched with fear growing inside her as she pulled her camisole back up and slid her arms through the straps. Edward stood in the pouring rain with his hands braced on the railing and his head hung. At least he hadn't put his shirt back on.

If he hadn't covered himself back up right away, that was a good sign.

Wasn't it?

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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Edward stood on the balcony outside his room listening to Bella talk to her mother. More accurately, he listened to Renee talk while Bella interjected an occasional distracted "Mhmm." Shame filled him. Not only had he… done what he had just done… but now he was eavesdropping on his Bella's private conversation with her mother. How low could he sink?

He had not only treated Bella with such horrible disrespect, but worse, he had endangered her. He could've ripped her arms off. He could've crushed her. There had been any number of times he could've killed her. Edward lowered his head, wholly disgusted with himself. No apology in the world could ever fix this. He was nothing but a monster. He'd been so selfish…. He'd taken what he wanted without a second thought to Bella's safety.

He was far worse than any of the boys at school with their vile, dirty minds. How could he criticize them for their thoughts when he'd pushed Bella onto the floor and rutted against her like an animal? What, really, was the worse any of them could do to her? If she was with one of the other boys at school—Mike Newtown or Tyler Crowley, or _anyone_ but him—what would her biggest risk be? A few love bites she couldn't hide? At the absolute worst, an unplanned pregnancy? Even then, he was certain she would have the full support of both of her parents. Today's society wouldn't even bat an eye; she would have nothing to lose in that regard either.

And she would have something _he _would never be able to give her. A child. He could never give her a child. His beautiful Bella deserved so much better, so much more than he could ever give her. What's a first edition book compared to a _child_? Compared to building _a real life_, a full life, with her? To growing old with her? What did he think he was doing? What could he ever offer her?

Edward hung his head lower and gripped the railing tighter. This was it. He had to fix this. He had to think of some magic words to beg her to forgive him.

He could hear restrained anger in her voice as she told her mother good bye. She'd gotten off the phone quickly, promising they'd talk later. Bella had told her mother she was with him and studying for a Spanish test, only to have Renee ask anxiously if they were being careful. It appeared from the irritation evident in his Bella's voice that this was not the first time the subject had come up. Hearing those words from her mother only served to highlight to Edward how horribly and irresponsibly he had behaved. _No, Mrs. Dwyer. We're not being careful. Or rather, I'm not. Bella had no idea of the incredible danger I selfishly and unforgivably placed her in. _

_How many times before had her mother warned her about being careful with him?_ he wondered. Edward had no idea; he rarely heard them on the phone together. His normal evening routine was to spend as much time with Bella as possible, then leave—both to honor her privacy with her father and to hunt—and by the time he returned, she was inevitably asleep. He would stay through the night in the trees behind her house and listen to her breathe as she slept. In the morning as she woke, he would run back to his family's house to shower and change before returning to her house to drive her to school.

Edward could hear Bella's every move inside his room. Her irritation was obvious in everything she did—from the way she threw her phone on the couch to the way she roughly picked up her blouse to put it back on. After the disgraceful way he'd treated her, her anger with him was completely justified. It would be worse than being burned alive, but he would endure it. She had every right to give him what for after what he'd just done. _Or, as she once said, rip me a new one. _

The corners of Edward's mouth twitched involuntarily as he remembered one other time his mate had torn into someone—both her written description of it and Fido's memory of it. Jasper was right; his Bella was a fighter, there was no doubt about that.

It would be an entirely different experience being on the receiving end of her anger, but he fully deserved it, and he would let her speak her piece before getting on his knees to beg her forgiveness.

Edward braced himself as she opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. "Edward. A—" Bella's breath caught in her throat in her anger. "Edward. Agamemnon. Mortimer. Cullen. Don't you DARE apologize for what just happened, or so help me God, I will push you over that railing."

Her words were so exactly the opposite of what Edward had tried to prepare himself to hear and were spoken with such vehemence, he spun around to face her in surprise. A bubble of laughter erupted from him at the sight of his mate before he could stop it. His vicious little tiger kitten was standing in the doorway positively glaring at him, with her delicate little hands on her hips, balled into tiny fists.

His Bella was utterly adorable when she was angry.

Against his will, Edward's traitorous eyes drifted downward. She hadn' tput her blouse back on. She was still only wearing the white cotton camisole, which was so thin as to do nothing whatsoever to preserve her modesty from his enhanced eyesight. The perfect curve of her breasts… her rosebud nipples…. She was as nearly as exposed to him in that moment as she had been when she'd…. _when they'd_ slid the useless cotton down her body.

The way she'd _begged _him to touch her…. The deep passion her voice had been full of for him…. _For him!_ The way she'd felt under his hands…. The way her hands had felt _on him_….

Edward grew hard again remembering how her warm, soft hands had felt when she'd touched him… _where_ she'd touched him….

"I mean it, Edward." His Bella advanced on him angrily, stepping out from under the shelter of the eaves and into the driving rain, one tiny hand leaving her hip to poke him in the chest. If he'd been human, Edward suspected it would've hurt.

He took her hand in his and, guiding her back under the shelter provided by the eaves, Edward pulled her against him, needing to apologize. "Bella, I—"

Bella's hand came up to cover his mouth, and he looked down at her in bewilderment. "I said, don't. Just… don't. I am the happiest person in the world right now, Edward_, and you are killing my buzz!_ So knock it off. We love each other, and we messed around a bit. No harm done. In fact," she nuzzled her face against his chest, "it was amazing."

She looked up at him with absolute faith in her eyes—faith that he could never deserve. He asked, "Are you sure?"

In a split second, his Bella's expression changed first to confusion and then to something approaching mortification. "Wasn't… wasn't it… I mean… you… you…."

Dear Lord, she thought he'd hadn't… _enjoyed it_, that he was questioning her statement that it had been amazing. Amazing didn't come close. Even with all the languages he spoke fluently, Edward didn't know any words that did come close to describing how wonderful it had been. He traced his fingers along her face and through her hair before pressing a kiss against her forehead. "Bella, I never knew feelings like that existed. Before you, they simply didn't exist, not for me. That you would share that with me, there are no words that adequately describe what you mean to me, how very much I love you. That you feel the same for me, it's incomprehensible to me."

Edward carefully placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her a few inches away from himself to look at her properly. She didn't _look_ at all injured. She looked lost and confused.

"Am I sure about what?" his Bella asked him. "I'm sure I loved every second of it. You," she blushed, and her scent—already heady—intensified further, "I mean… you… you…." She was trying to gesture with her hands, unable to speak the words. "You seemed to enjoy it, too. What's wrong? Do you think I didn't…?"

Oh, no. He was sure she'd _enjoyed it_, as she called it. Her musky scent left no doubt about that. It had been that scent that had finished him. On top of the feeling of her touching him under his clothing, touching him as no one ever had before, the moment that unmistakable scent washed over him…. He'd been lost.

But as wonderful as it had been did not change the fact that he should never have allowed it to happen. "Are you sure you're not hurt? Please, Bella. Tell me the truth. Did I hurt you?"

Comprehension lit her chocolate brown eyes, and her mouth formed a perfect 'O.' She nodded her head slowly, but it was clearly in understanding and not confirmation of his worst fears. "No, Edward. Not at all. I promise."

"You're sure? Absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Edward, I'm sure. I'm not hurt."

It was obvious by her voice that she was telling the truth as she knew it, but his senses were much stronger than hers. Edward could already see the subtle darkening of the skin on her shoulders and arms. Bruises were forming that she was not yet aware of, that she could not yet feel.

Bruises that he'd caused.

"Bella, I am so terribly sorry. I had no right, no right at all—"

She replaced her hand over his mouth, silencing him. "No. If anyone should be sorry it's me."

Edward was horrified. His Bella blamed _herself _for what just happened? He was the man; he was to blame. Not her. She was perfectly innocent. He was the guilty party. "You? Bella, you have nothing with which to reproach yourself. It was my fault, solely mine—"

Her hand covered his mouth again. "Edward, this is the 21st century. Welcome to it. I am every bit as responsible for what we do or do not do as a couple as you are. You made it clear you weren't comfortable with…." She looked away, hands gesturing and blushing again. It really was too adorable. The same girl who'd just minutes ago so brazenly slid her hands under his clothing and touched him was now embarrassed to talk about it. "I shouldn't have pushed you," his Bella said as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest.

"You're sure you're not hurt, I mean _absolutely_ sure?"

She looked up at him and shivered violently. The sight brought back horrible memories. "I'm not hurt, but I am freakin' freezing. Can we go back inside now?"

Only just remembering the cold at that moment, Edward immediately scooped her up into his arms and carried her into his room, berating himself for being so careless. He'd gotten her out of the rain at least, but not out of the cold.

He was two for two tonight.

Grabbing the previously useless blanket Esme swore 'completed' the room and wrapping Bella up in it, Edward kicked himself for being so stupid. He'd been so worried he'd hurt her, he hadn't seen the more immediate concern of keeping her warm. "Wait here. I'll get dry clothes for you from Alice's room."

He ran out of his room before she could argue with him and pulled out the first things his hands landed on in the "For Bella" section of Alice's closet and a towel from the bathroom. He returned with them much too quickly, but his thoughts were too focused on getting his mate warm again to realize his mistake or to understand the reason for the grin his Bella was trying to hide.

Returning to the bedroom Alice and Jasper shared, Edward borrowed dry—not to mention _clean_—clothes from his brother.

Downstairs, Edward started a fire in the never-before-used hearth while his Bella changed into the dry clothes. As he watched the kindling catch and the fire spread, Edward's mind wandered and thought about what was happening in his room at that moment. He tried to concentrate on the crackling sounds of the growing fire but all he could hear was the sound of rustling, wet fabric dropping to the floor coming from the third floor. He went to his piano and played, but his fingers automatically plucked out a song he'd composed and dedicated to Bella, even if she hadn't yet heard it. It did nothing to help block out the mental image of Bella undressing fully _in his room_.

That was another reason he hunted and dressed for the new day when he did. If he was near enough to hear Bella in the shower, Edward knew he'd never restrain himself.

He wished someone would come home, someone to distract him, to keep him from doing something else he'd regret, but as usual his family had scattered, giving them privacy. The ability to be alone in his mind without being alone was something he'd always longed for, and his family was happy to give it to him now that it was possible.

A sudden thought occurred to Edward that if he ran out into the woods, he could watch her through the windows in his room. As disgusted with himself as Edward was for even thinking it, his cock twitched as he pictured the scene. He wanted her so badly; his body ached to become one with hers. The memory of touching her, of seeing her… seeing her pebbled nipples first though the thin cotton and then bared to him…. The way they'd felt under his hands and against his lips and tongue…. The way she arched into his touch…. How she'd looked when she'd first stepped out onto the balcony to confront him…. Then, when she'd stepped out into the rain, drops of water dripping down the skin he'd so recently touched, tasted… rendering the cotton camisole she wore even more useless, seeing her clearly through the wet fabric…. His Bella dripping wet was even harder to resist than his Bella dry.

Edward had to control himself. She had left his room and was on the stairs. He rose from the piano and met her at the bottom of the stairs. The peach-colored cashmere sweater Alice had purchased for her made his Bella's skin glow, highlighting her natural warm porcelain complexion. Her checks were a beautiful pink. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, mesmerized by his mate.

The pink spread from her cheeks across her face, and she looked away before turning back to him. "You changed your clothes quickly," she observed innocently but with a teasing look in her bottomless brown eyes.

Edward kissed the top of her head. "Come on, I lit a fire." He took her hand to lead her to the warmth from the fire, but before he took the first step, his Bella reached out to touch his arm. She looked apprehensive, and he worried that something had begun to hurt her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying not to sound too panicked. "Do you hurt anywhere? Is something wrong?"

Slowly and watching him intently, his beloved mate shook her head, the look of apprehension sliding from her eyes to be replaced with something Edward couldn't quite identify, much to his frustration.

"No, Edward, nothing is wrong." She slid her hand down his arm to his hand and laced their fingers together. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is exactly right."

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Well, she almost told him. But then she decided against pushing him too much in one day. I hope the little slice of lemon will hold you all till next week when . . . . Oops. Almost gave to much away! You'll just have to wait for the teaser for your sneak peek at next week.

Hopefully, there will still be a next week! Gotta go batten down the hatches and buy every store in town out of all their candles, bread, eggs, and milk getting ready for FRANKENSTORM as Hurricane - or Tropical Storm - Sandy, whichever it happens to be when it hits, meets a nor'easter. Why is it anytime there's a storm, everyone in town decides to have a nice romantic, candlelit dinner of French toast? Must be some kind of weird comfort food. If you have a cold, you make chicken soup. If there's a storm, you make French toast.

In all seriousness, last September we had record flooding with Tropical Storm Lee, and some people were without power for a really long time. Hopefully, this time around won't be so bad. Thankfully, the river is only at three or four feet. It crested at over 42.5 feet last year, two feet higher than it ever had before. Keep us in your thoughts!


	37. Chapter 37

Wohoooo! I'm still standing! (And oddly enough, I can hear Elton John singing in my head. Weird.) Where I live, we got incredibly lucky and suffered no real damage. We were without power for about 18 hours, but most people right around here didn't lose power at all. And THANK GOD the Susquehanna stayed well within its banks. I believe the eye passed only about an hour and a half south of us, but I live in a valley in the Appalachians, and I think maybe it was the mountains that spared us the brunt of it. (And of course, I'm sure all the prayers you all sent helped.) My brother lives south of here, closer to the where they eye passed, and while, thankfully, they had no major damage either, they're still without power as of Friday night, as are cousins in New Jersey. Please keep all the victims of Sandy in your thoughts, hearts, and prayers.

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**I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. The winner will be announced on December 28th.  
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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Now, on with the show!

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As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus.

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Bella sighed. "I am going to miss you so much."

Edward grinned; he kissed her forehead, her eyes, her chin. "It's only two nights, and you'll love Seattle." _And I'll be closer than you think._

Suddenly, Bella pulled away from him, sneezing and blowing her nose—_again_. Edward grimaced. He knew it was only a simple cold—he really did—but his Bella had been sick now for two days, and every time she coughed, his chest seized up. "This is my fault. I let you stand out in the cold the other night, and now you're sick."

She snuggled up close to him again. Her body was warmer than normal but only slightly so. "I have it on very good authority that colds are caused by germs and viruses and not standing outside in the cold, Mr. My-Father-Is-A-Doctor."

"Very funny."

"Tyler, Ben, and Angela were all absent today with the same cold I've got, and a bunch of other kids had it already, too. It's just a cold." His mate looked at him very seriously, as if she understood his concern. She repeated herself. "It's just a cold, Edward. Another day or two, and I'll be fine."

Edward had been afraid every minute since her first cough when she woke up yesterday morning. As usual, he'd waited in the trees until she was forced to accept that she couldn't hit the snooze button one more time and finally climbed out of bed. He had just turned to leave when she coughed. The sound had frozen him in place—then she'd coughed again.

With their perfect memories, the images he'd seen in Carlisle's mind of that horrible influenza nearly a century ago were as vivid as if it was happening now, and every one of those memories had been running wildly through his head since yesterday morning. The sound of the coughing of its victim's, of his parents and himself….

Logically, Edward knew the virus Bella had caught was a simple cold and not the same as what had killed so many millions, his parents included—but 'logic' didn't stand a chance against the abject terror of his mate being sick.

Edward knew she had gotten her flu shot, just like she did every year, but he also knew that no vaccine was an absolute guarantee of protection, and he had called Carlisle at the hospital in a blind panic. Just because it wasn't the same virus that had claimed tens of millions of lives, didn't mean it couldn't be potentially dangerous. Carlisle had patiently assured him there was no need for concern, that humans got colds every day, but it hadn't reassured him at all. His mate was sick, and he was as helpless today in 2010 to help her as Carlisle had been when he and his parents were sick in 1918.

"You should've stayed home from school. How is your head? Are you sure I can't get you anything?" he asked.

"I hate cold medicine. It makes me so tired. 'May cause drowsiness' my ass. More like 'May cause you to fall asleep standing up.' And it doesn't work anyway. All it does is make you so spacey you don't care that you're sick." She stretched and kissed his jaw before snuggling closer to him, even though it made her shiver. "I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow," she assured him.

Except she hadn't.

Tanya had given Charlie three tickets to the Seattle Mariners home opener for his birthday, and they'd decided to make a weekend out of it. Friday came and, with Bella not wanting to let her cold get in the way, the three of them climbed into Tanya's already packed SUV for the drive to Seattle as soon as her father got home for work. They had hotel reservations for Friday and Saturday night at the Hotel Sterling, a beautiful century old stone building with original marble pillars surrounding the two-story lobby, featuring a mezzanine with detailed wrought iron railings and a highly ornate copper ceiling, the centerpiece of which was a spectacular Tiffany skylight. They had plans to show Bella the Space Needle and other Seattle highlights. Bella had slept in the car most of the way and had barely eaten anything at dinner. Her throat had started to hurt, and she just wasn't hungry, she'd said.

Edward had followed in a car a short distance behind them and was booked into the room next to theirs.

The weather on Saturday cooperated, just as Alice had said it would, being overcast but warm and dry. In spite of her cold, Bella enjoyed the Space Needle and loved the Pioneer Square area as much as he'd known she would. She had spent over two hours roaming from one quaint little specialty book store to another with her father and Tanya trailing behind her, and Edward was sure she could've spent days had she been on her own.

But she'd been coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose the entire time.

The three of them got a late lunch at a small café and took it to go, walking the few blocks to the Waterfall Garden on Second Ave. to eat, but just like at dinner the night before and breakfast that morning, Bella barely touched hers.

Not having slept well the night before, Bella was tired, and after they ate, Tanya suggested they go back to their hotel so Bella could take a nap before the game that night. There were some samples Esme had asked her to pick up, and there was no need for Bella to have to go since she was tired.

That's where they were now: Bella in her room, Edward in his.

Charlie had wanted to stay at the hotel with her. He was a protective father—his approval of a vampire courting his daughter notwithstanding—and he hadn't wanted to leave her alone sick in a strange place, but Bella had insisted he go with Tanya. "Have some alone time," she'd said. She'd even winked.

Once they'd left, Bella collapsed onto her bed and groaned. Edward could hear skin rubbing against skin as she massaged her forehead and sinuses and sighed tiredly. "Ugh, it feels like someone's drilling holes into my head and filling it with cement."

After a few minutes, she got up and changed into the old T-shirt and sweat pants she liked to sleep in. Edward could hear her tearing open the plastic and foil packet containing the cold medication that just last night she'd told him she didn't like to take because it never worked. She downed the two capsules with a large glass of water and fell back onto the bed, groaning and coughing.

He didn't like that she felt sick enough to take the medication, but he hoped that at least it would help her finally get some sleep. Sleep and liquids, that was what she need most. But even with the cold medicine she'd taken, Bella was still lying in bed and tossing and turning, sneezing and coughing, nearly an hour later.

For the tenth time in two days, Edward called Carlisle, who patiently assured him Bella's symptoms were the same as doctors all over the country were reporting and did report every year at this time. Her lungs were clear, at under 100 degrees her temperature wasn't even high enough to really be considered a fever, and she was taking in liquids, even if she barely ate. His mate had a cold, his father assured him, a viral infection that just had to be allowed to run its course. A simple, common cold, just like countless humans got every year.

Except none of those other humans were his mate, his Bella.

Edward was a doctor himself—if only on paper. He knew all these things. But this was his Bella who was sick, and even with his medical degrees there wasn't a single thing he could do to help her.

He paced back and forth in his room, wincing with her every cough, every sneeze, every sniffle as the feeling of helplessness in him grew.

After another twenty minutes he heard her mutter, "Oh, screw it," under her breath and throw the covers off herself angrily. She unzipped the outside pocket on her overnight bag, and he heard her tear open another section of the card containing the capsules. The water in her bathroom ran for a moment and he heard her swallow another two capsules.

The dosage on the medication Tanya had packed in case Bella changed her mind and wanted them was two capsules every six hours. Bella had taken four in just over an hour.

It wasn't enough to be dangerous, Edward assured himself, but this was the same girl who had once warned him about taking more than the recommended dosage when she'd tried to send him 21st century medicines through their desk.

As his Bella climbed back into bed, the blankets rustled. Her breathing was muffled. She must've pulled the blankets up and over her head, he decided.

After a minute or two, she threw them off and got out of bed again. She must've been aggravated by the way she stomped her feet. He heard her dig around in her bag for a minute before music started to play. She'd gotten her iPod. The music was dampened when she put the ear buds in as she climbed back into bed, then dampened further as she pulled the blankets up and snuggled into them.

She sang along quietly with her favorite songs, and he couldn't help but smile. Bella sang softly to herself—or so she thought—for nearly twenty minutes before the double dose of cold medicine finally kicked in, and she fell into a sound sleep.

The temptation to sneak into her room and watch her as she slept was nearly overpowering, but he couldn't do it, no matter how desperately he wanted to. Instead, Edward curled up next to the wall between her room and his, listening to her slow, steady breathing and wished he could lie next to her and hold her. But he knew he couldn't. Charlie had been very clear. He'd been very accepting, very supportive of Edward's relationship with Bella; he was even genuinely happy for it, which had surprised Edward to no end. When he'd had to face the man and admit that he had been wrong when he'd sworn to him that all he hoped for with Bella was friendship, nothing more, that in spite of how deeply he loved her that would be enough, Edward had expected angry refusals to allow him to ever see her again and for Charlie to send Bella back to her mother immediately in an effort to keep him away from her. But he hadn't. Charlie was even aware that Edward stood guard over the little house nightly, just as Tanya had once done, and that he was at that moment in the room next to theirs.

Edward shook his head at his own foolishness, his own stupidity. How could he ever have thought friendship alone would be enough?

Charlie had been surprised at his formal request to be allowed to court Bella—it wasn't as if seventeen-year-old boys today routinely asked a father's permission to date their daughters—but he had granted his consent readily. The feeling of hope that had coursed through Edward at that moment was indescribable. To have Bella's friendship had been more than wonderful, but the hope that he might have her heart, no matter how little he could ever hope to deserve it, was beyond words.

Charlie had known all along he'd been deceiving himself, just as his family had. Charlie had known from his own personal experience with Tanya, and also from what he had observed from the rest of their family, that Edward's intention to limit himself to friendship was futile. He had given his consent to the courtship, if it was what Bella wanted, but he'd set very strict limits.

Their activities the other night in his room sprang to mind yet again, and Edward's body reacted. He had very definitely violated those limits that night. Edward shifted, trying to get more comfortable, but it was useless.

Strictly speaking, though, Charlie had forbidden bedrooms. Edward didn't have a bedroom, technically. There was no bed; it was just a room. Another technicality occurred to him. Tanya had reserved a two-bedroom suite for them for privacy. He could be in the living room area of their suite without another violation of Charlie's limits. Technically.

But Charlie's meaning had been clear.

His words still made Edward both laugh and cringe. "You may be bulletproof, but I _can_ get a flamethrower," his mate's father had said, and Edward knew he hadn't been joking. Betraying the trust Charlie had placed in him was just one more reason to feel guilty for what he had allowed to happen. No matter how much Bella protested, it had been he who had allowed it. As the man, it was his responsibility to protect Bella, not only physically but also to protect her virtue. Throwing her to the floor and rutting against her was doing neither of those things. But it had been more perfect than he ever could have imagined.

The way his Bella had moved… the sounds she'd made… her scent…. As perfect as it had been, it hadn't been enough. It had left him craving more. Craving a next time. Wanting to know what the rest of her body felt like… tasted like…. What sounds she would make if he touched her other places….

Unable to stand the painful throbbing of his erection any longer, Edward opened his jeans and slid his hand inside. It wasn't what he wanted. As his fingers wrapped around his length, he tried to imagine how Bella's soft, warm fingers touching him there would feel. How she would move against him, arching into his touch, if he touched her how she had touched him… if he touched her even more intimately…. How it would feel if he was inside her, her body surrounding him, yielding to his, accepting him inside….

Crying out, Edward came into his hand, his body collapsing against the wall separating him from the love of his existence. He stilled. He was aware he hadn't been quiet, and he was afraid he might have wakened her. But the walls were solid, and her breathing remained the same. Slow. Steady. Undisturbed. She slept on, unaware that he was only a foot away from her or of what he had been doing. Or of what he had been thinking as he did it.

This was hopeless. He was hopeless. He _wanted_ her.

Now that he'd had a taste of what being with Bella physically could be like, he had to have more. He had thought to himself before that Bella was like a drug to him, and she was exactly that. Only a drug was a danger to the user. In his case, he was the danger to her.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Edward cleaned himself up in the bathroom. It was as he was stepping into the living room of his own suite that he first caught the scent, and it paralyzed him with a fear so absolute it immediately pushed everything else from his mind.

It was faint, but growing. And it wasn't far.

He could smell the unmistakable stench that could cripple him with terror unlike any other—smoke. Edward could smell smoke. He could also hear the crackling of a small fire. It wasn't the smell of a fire burning safely contained in a fireplace; it was the smell of burning paper and plastic; it was chemicals and synthetic fabric burning. It was the smell of a small but very rapidly growing fire. And it was somewhere in this building. Definitely in the hotel.

The building he was in was on _fire_. The building _his Bella_ was in was _on_ _fire_. And from the thoughts he could hear of the others in the building, no one knew it yet but him.

A fear more intense, more crippling than anything Edward had ever known paralyzed him where he stood, and he was unable to move. So many thoughts were running simultaneously though his mind, he was unable to think rationally.

As he gained control of his mind, it was only the restraint Edward had learned to master over the past nine decades that prevented him from knocking his way through the wall and snatching his Bella from her bed. This was nothing like the danger the bear had posed to his mate last summer, he tried to assure himself. Then, there had only been one course of action, one possible way to save his mate. He'd had to act immediately; there had been no time to spare. There had been no other way to protect his mate other than for him to do it himself. The risk exposure to his existence would have posed to his Bella had been so secondary to the certainty of his beloved mate's fate were he not in time, that the danger she would be in if she were to learn of the existence of his kind had not even occurred to him.

This, Edward told himself as his eyes fixed on the sprinkler head recessed into to ceiling, was different. This time he could ensure her safety with no threat of exposing her to another and equal danger.

Over and over, he calculated and recalculated how long it would take for his mate to flee and escape the hotel via the emergency stairwell only three doors down from her room, each time trying to account for variables: how much time might be lost if she thought the alarm was a hoax, if she panicked, if she spent precious seconds pulling on shoes or her coat, grab belongings—all things he knew had meant the difference between surviving or perishing for an innumerable amount of humans throughout time.

Twenty-eight seconds had passed since he had first caught the scent, and the seconds continued to tick by both with terrifying speed and agonizingly slowly while the stench grew stronger, the flames grew louder, but still the alarm did not sound; the sprinklers did not turn on.

The fifteen-story stone structure dated to 1898 and featured a fatal design flaw common at the time—an elaborate grand stairwell that went from the two-story lobby all the way to the fifteenth floor. Similar designs had been responsible for terrible losses of life by acting as chimneys and allowing deadly smoke and flames to rise and spread rapidly throughout the building.

It had now been forty-seven seconds since he'd detected the fire, but still the alarm did not sound.

The fire was burning seven floors directly below them, in a small ballroom being used to temporarily store new furniture for an upcoming renovation of several guest rooms. While out of commission, the ballroom was often also being used by a small group of hotel employees for a quick smoke break in the nonsmoking building before the dinner rush started in the hotel's popular restaurant. Afraid of getting caught, they would turn off the hotel's automatic fire repression system, wrongly believing it would detect their cigarette smoke. But this time, joking and laughing with each other as they'd left, they had forgotten to turn it back on.

Another eleven seconds passed, and Edward monitored the growth of the fire continually. It was growing rapidly, but there was still time—for now, it was still contained to the ballroom. He would wait another fifteen seconds, but then, if the alarm didn't sound, he would pull it himself manually.

Finally, after the longest one minute and seven seconds of Edward's existence, a woman screamed. Then another. Another six seconds, and the alarm finally blared, manually pulled by terrified hotel staff.

The fire had engulfed the ballroom—the highly flammable mattresses and bedding, wooden furniture, and boxes of window treatments stacked nearly from wall to wall and floor to ceiling serving as kindling—and deadly smoke and flames were about to spread into the hallway and toward the staircase that would allow them to travel to every floor in the building in mere minutes.

Edward listened for Bella to awaken, but she did not stir. She slept on, not hearing a sound. Loud though it was, the alarm was not enough to wake her after the combination of the double dose of cold medication, her iPod, and the blankets pulled up and covering her ears. He pounded on the wall, cracking the plaster, and yelled. But still she slept on. He tried to call her cell phone, but she didn't hear the ring.

The fire was growing exponentially, rapidly consuming the 112-year-old chestnut wainscoting, vintage wallpaper, carpeting, and the highly polished original hard wood floors, and Bella slept on totally unaware.

Virtually every item in the hotel except the stone of the exterior walls was highly flammable and fed the fire.

Precious seconds were passing, and Edward pounded on the wall, desperately trying to wake his mate. People were screaming and crying, trapped by the flames licking at walls and doors and, worse, the smoke funneling up the staircase floor after floor and spilling down narrow hallways like poisonous rivers, preventing them from reaching the safety and escape of the emergency exists at the ends of hall.

In very little time, the world had changed abruptly for anyone unfortunate enough to be in the hotel at that moment. A typical, uneventful Saturday afternoon had tuned into hell on Earth.

Edward screamed for Bella to wake up in terror growing as rapidly as the fire. He pounded holes in the wall. Her room was only three doors from the emergency stairs. The smoke had not yet reached their floor. There was still time; she could get to the emergency stairwell and get out. If she would just wake up.

In the distance, sirens could now be heard and were rapidly growing louder as the fire department raced toward the burning building, but it was already too late for many on the floor where the fire had begun and those immediately above it, hotel guests and staff trapped, cut off from the emergency exit stairwells by the thick black smoke. Precious time had been lost because, as he had feared, people had mistakenly believed the alarm to be a prank and had not evacuated while there had still been time.

For some victims, a delay of only seconds would prove to be too much.

The trapped included mostly the hotel's staff and dozens of business people in a meeting room on the fifth floor gathering to see-and-be-seen before an awards dinner to be held that evening. Fortunately, few of the hotel's guests were in their rooms at this time of the afternoon, or the loss of life would have been even greater than it was going to be.

Edward could hear the tears and desperate prayers of a young mother who had returned to their room only a short while ago with her small children so the children could nap. She was trapped in her room by the thick black smoke creeping in under the door and on the phone with her husband telling him she loved him.

The fire had spread from a small wastepaper basket and engulfed a large portion of the century-old building with incredible speed, and Edward could hear people collapsing as they succumbed to the deadly smoke and carbon monoxide. The thick smoke indiscriminately killed anyone unable to escape, maid or millionaire, nineteen-year-old college student or sixty-nine-year old grandfather of five.

Three maids working four floors below them were able to get to the fire escape and were crying and praying in three different languages, clinging to one another as they descended the exterior staircase on trembling legs from seven stories above the sidewalk.

Others were not so fortunate. Windows were being smashed as those trapped tried to find fresh, cool air. Even through the smoke, Edward could smell the human blood in the air as the broken glass sliced their hands and arms.

In their panic and desperation, some were beginning to jump. Most didn't survive the fall. It was a horrible decision for the trapped to make—the smoke or the fall.

At that moment, a man jumped from the window of a smoke-filled seventh floor room; his last thought was of his pregnant wife. Filled with regret for a meaningless affair, he hadn't wanted her to be told he'd been found in a room with his mistress.

The smoke had reached their floor and was now creeping down the hall outside their rooms, and Edward couldn't wait any longer; it would begin seeping in around the doors in seconds. He needed to get Bella and get them both out of the building now, and with two kicks, he crashed through the one-foot thick wall separating him from his mate.

The noise of the collapsing wood and plaster succeeded where everything else had failed, jolting Bella abruptly awake, and he grabbed her roughly from the bed, startling her further. Dazed and disoriented from being pulled so suddenly from her deep sleep, his mate looked wide-eyed at him and then around the room, those brown eyes coming to rest on the giant hole in the wall as she pulled her ear buds off. "Edward? Wha…."

Edward's control had been hanging by a thread, but now that he had acted, his ability to reason was lost, and he was ruled by his instinct—that instinct being to get his mate and himself out of the building by the fastest means possible, and the emergency stairwell was forgotten. He thanked God Tanya had booked a room with a balcony. There were very few in the hotel, only from this floor and higher. She had thought it would be nice for Charlie and Bella to have breakfast on the balcony in the mornings. Now, it prevented him from having to break the window and risk cutting his Bella.

"Edward? What's that smell? What are you doing here? Oh, my God! Is that smoke?"

Rather than take his arm from around his Bella's shoulder, Edward kicked the bedroom door down. She stared up at him in shock, her mouth falling open.

"There's a fire. Don't be afraid. I'm getting us out of here," he said.

Bella held him tighter, her face going as white as the sheets on the bed he'd pulled her from seconds ago. Her voice was barely audible. "A fire?"

"It's all right, love. It's going to be all right. Don't be afraid."

Tanya, having been called by Alice, was racing to the hotel with Charlie. Her thoughts were frantic, but she had absolute confidence he would get them out safely. Charlie's fear for his daughter was so great his thoughts were more concealed from Edward than normal.

Although floors away still, Edward could feel the heat from the flames, and he was barely able to resist his instinct of running across the suite's living room to the balcony at his natural speed. What he was about to do—what he had already done—would terrify his Bella enough.

He stopped in front of the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. The fire had burst through the windows on the fourth floor, and billowing black smoke rose up the side of the building like a thick curtain, filling the balcony completely. He tightened his grip on his mate as much as possible without hurting her. "Bella, listen to me." Her heart was beating dangerously fast, and she was deathly pale. As pale, even, as him. She silently nodded her head. "We're going to have to jump," he said.

Her mouth soundlessly formed the word, "Jump?" Her eyes made it a question.

Eyes wide with fear and filling with tears, she swallowed before speaking as if to a small child, "Edward, we're on the eleventh floor."

"Listen to me," he pleaded, praying for the strength to stay calm as to not frighten his Bella further. "When I tell you, take a deep breath and hold it. Don't inhale again until I tell you. Do you understand?"

Her frightened eyes darted between him and the balcony. Edward was sure with her limited eyesight, she wouldn't even be able to see the decorative stonework of the balustrade only ten feet away.

Her eyes looked deeply into his, and she nodded her head. A decision clearly written across her face along with her absolute faith in him. "Just like Titanic. Do you remember when I wrote to you about it? You jump, I jump." Bella didn't give him a chance to answer before clenching her hands into tiny fists, scrunching the fabric of his shirt in her grasp, and tightening her arms around him as much as she could. She buried her face into his neck. "I trust you, Edward."

He felt her inhale as deeply as she could and hold it. His shock at her words was so great, Edward felt numb as he slid the door open. Instantly, thick black smoke poured into the suite. Equally as instantly, Edward lunged forward and was up and over the heavy stone balustrade.

An eleven story drop was no different to him than stepping off the curb would be to his Bella, but she would never survive a fall of even half that distance. The fall lasted less than four seconds, and Edward was careful to land so that he absorbed the impact with his legs to protect Bella. Even then, the jolt was enough to dislocate her shoulder, and she cried out in pain involuntarily, inhaling a large amount of hot air which caused her to cough violently and jostle her already injured shoulder.

There was emergency personnel everywhere. It was an organized and highly skilled chaos as fire fighters directed powerful streams of water at the building and raised ladders in a race to reach people leaning and hanging from windows and balconies in desperation, and with their attention focused on their jobs, and the horror of the onlookers, no one had noticed them.

Paramedics were already treating the injured. Sheets were already being spread out over the dead. People were walking around aimlessly and crying. Others were struck dumb with terror and shock, still as statues staring up at the burning building.

The husband and father of the young family trapped in their room was screaming helplessly for the wife and children he didn't yet know had already been lost to the deadly smoke.

Edward carried Bella to a secluded area away from the smoke, whispering to her that he loved her over and over, and carefully set her down. Her beautiful face was twisted with pain, but her eyes still looked at him with nothing but love and trust.

Tanya had heard them and led Charlie to where they were. They came upon them as Edward was running his fingers along Bella's shoulder examining it carefully. "It's dislocated." He looked into his mate's eyes but was speaking to both her and her father. "I know it hurts. I can place the bone back in the socket, but it's going to hurt like the Dickens."

A small laugh escaped Bella's lips and she inhaled sharply, as even just the small movement shot waves of sharp pain from her shoulder. Her father was at her side and holding her hand. She looked at him and smiled weakly. "'Like the Dickens,' he says. Must be 1918 talk for it's going to hurt like fucking hell." Bella bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. She nodded her head and leaned against her father. "Do it, Dr. Masen."

Desperately fighting back the horror he felt as his precious Bella so casually confirmed she knew who he had once been, Edward grimaced and gently placed his palm against her shoulder. The heat from her body seared his cold hand, burning him as badly as any fire ever could. He applied just the slightest pressure, and the bone went easily back into place. Bella cried out and collapsed against her father, breathing heavily.

The pain left her face almost the very moment the head of her humerus bone was back in the joint, and she gingerly moved her arm. Bella smiled up at him, "Good as new, doctor."

Charlie looked faint with relief and tightened his grip on his daughter; she winced and cradled her arm.

Edward felt like he was watching a scene in a movie. A horror movie.

_She knows. She knows._ The two words repeated through his mind, all else forgotten, everything erased by those two horrible words. _She knows_.

This wasn't happening. It _couldn't_ be happening. "The rotator cuff isn't torn, but the arm needs to be kept immobile. Carlisle will get a sling for you." Edward spoke mechanically, his voice sounded like an unrecognizable, hollow, echoing noise in his ears. The screaming and crying of the victims and witnesses receded into the background. The vicious, relentless fire, the noxious smoke, the determination in the minds of the firefighters, their sheer bravery—all of it faded away. Edward's world was collapsing around him. It was reduced to those two words—_she knows._

Charlie pulled his eyes from Bella to look at him. "Edward…. Son, thank you." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his daughter, his arms around her never loosening.

"She knows." Edward's words were spoken so softly only Tanya heard them.

_Yes. She knows. She's known the truth, all of it, for several weeks, and she still loves you. _

Edward shook his head in denial. Bella couldn't know; she somehow knew it was him, but she couldn't know the whole truth. She couldn't know everything. She _couldn't._ If she did, she'd be repulsed by him. He was a monster. She only loved him because she didn't truly know him… know what he'd done… know what he could have done.

Tanya's cell phone rang in her purse, but she didn't answer it. She didn't need to. She knew who it was and why she was calling by the frantic look in Edward's eyes as he looked back to the burning building. _Edward, don't do anything stupid. She's been traumatized enough today. _

Edward could only repeat those two words: "She knows…. She knows…."

Tanya tried in vain to reassure him. _Yes, she knows. She also knows you just saved her life. If you were human, you would both be dead. If you were human, she would have died last summer; she knows that too. _

Edward stood and backed away slowly. He felt like an intruder. He _was_ an intruder. His Bella was still scared, her heart was beating much too fast, but she was safe now. She was with her father. She belonged with her father. Charlie would take care of her. He, Edward, was worse than an intruder; he was a monster.

And Bella _knew_.

His movement caught her attention, and her eyes filled with concern he didn't deserve. She lifted her head from her father's shoulder. "Edward?"

He shook his head. He couldn't do this. He had to get away. He wasn't worthy of her. His Bella deserved so much better than him. She deserved someone with no blood on his hands.

Edward looked away from his reason for existing, back to the burning building. Without Bella…. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I…."

_Edward! Don't!_

Edward turned and ran. Tanya tried to reach for him, but he was too fast. He evaded her iron grip easily.

Bella watched helplessly as the man she loved seemed to disappear into thin air. She blinked in shock, swallowed, and turned to face Tanya.

Tanya sighed and shook her head before placing her hand on Bella's forearm. "Bella, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your boyfriend is an idiot."

The words were spoken in such a way that they immediately cut through the confusion and fear, and the corners of Bella's lips twitched in spite of the nightmare around them.

"You OK over here? Anyone hurt?" Two paramedics came over to them, but Tanya assured them they weren't needed. The two men turned and walked away as if in a trance.

"We should get out of here. News crews are on their way," Tanya said.

Charlie hadn't spoken except that one time to thank Edward. He nodded to Tanya and stood, holding his hand out to Bella to help her up. With her good arm, Bella pointed to the smoke-filled parking lot next to their hotel. "Um…. The car is over there."

"Carlisle is on his way. He's bringing a sling for your arm," Tanya said.

Bella's confusion returned as she looked down at the arm she cradled against herself. How could Carlisle already know she'd hurt her shoulder? No one had talked to him.

Tanya read the question in her eyes and answered cryptically, "Honey, you've still got a lot to learn."

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Whew…. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. I know this was a rather short chapter in comparison, but I think it was rather weighty in spite of being short.

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First, please let me assure you the last thirteen chapters _are not_ a rewrite of New Moon. I tried to show that by Tanya's reaction, I wanted her to show exasperation more than worry for him. That being, said, you'll just have to wait for the teaser to see what the remaining chapters will hold.

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I hope you're all satisfied with the way I let the cat out of the bag. I really wanted it to be a very dramatic scene where Edward's hand was forced, but I didn't want to do just another near car accident or group of drunk jerks prowling around with someone they don't know is far worse than just another drunk jerk. I really wanted something that was a just as much of a threat to Edward as it was to Bella, and a fire fit the bill. I hope his reaction was feasible. For the first seconds, he was too paralyzed with fear to react immediately. Then, he tried to let the fire alarm and sprinklers do their job, hoping Bella would be safe from the fire without having to subject her to the very real danger knowing the truth about him would present. He was able to wait because he knew if he absolutely had to, he could get her out. Finally, there was no other way, and he had to act. But he was only able to do one thing—think or act. Once he'd acted, he was acting on pure instinct and unable to reason, somewhat similar to when he hunts. All he could process was that jumping got both him and his mate away from the danger faster.

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I tried to be as accurate as possible about the way a fire would spread through a building, and looked up several deadly hotel fires. I took bits of different fires to build the fire at the Hotel Sterling, particularly that it started in a small ballroom being used to store furniture etc. for a remodel—that came from a fire at the Dupont Plaza in San Juan, Puerto Rico. It is terrifyingly remarkable just how quickly a fire can spread through a building, and that's nothing compared to the smoke, which is the real killer. The problem of the grand staircase running from the lobby to the top floor is real; it acts like a chimney, letting the smoke travel throughout the building incredibly quickly. A few years ago, the house across the street from me caught fire. You cannot even begin to imagine just how very thick and dark smoke can be and just how much of it there can be unless you've seen it close up. I was standing in my kitchen and could not see my front porch. All there was out the front door (which thankfully was closed) was dark, charcoal grey. If you've never seen an educational video on just how quickly a fire spreads, you really should check one out. It's shocking. Google it, and you'll find plenty.

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The Hotel Sterling is (unfortunately, soon to be was) a real place. Thanks to a combination of corruption/greed/and sheer incompetence it is probably going to collapse in on itself before the powers-that-be finish their pissing contest as to who has to pay to tear it down. Never having been inside, at least that I can remember, I tried to describe the lobby as accurately as possible from old pictures. If you look at the banner the lovely and talented Readergoof created for me, in the background you can see a stone wall with a balcony with a heavy stone banister, just under which you can just barely make out the name STERLING. That is the balcony Edward jumped with Bella from. It's a picture I took of the real Hotel Sterling. The real hotel has no balconies, the picture is of the top of the side entryway. Readergoof had to edit out a sapling, which has to be at least four feet tall and is growing out of the masonry.

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Bella's reference to her telling him in their letters about the Titanic movie was not the last time something they talked about in their letters will prove relevant to what happens now, but you'll just have to wait to see what else will come up again.

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Look for a teaser for chapter 38 on Fictionators – Teaser Mondays, Twi Fic Central – Wednesdays, Twi & VD Fic Recs – Tuesday, and Twilight Fic Zone – Sunday. I will also try to visit the Sneak Peek campfire on A Different Forest on Monday night. It's the same teaser regardless of which site you see it on.

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Again, thank you so very much for all the well wishes. Please keep those affected by superstorm Sandy in your thoughts and prayers.


	38. Chapter 38

I've had a few comments on the last chapter about why Edward didn't try to save any of the other victims of the fire, or pull the alarm or put the fire out himself, and I wanted to try to explain my reasoning. As for putting the fire out himself, at first, he had no reason to think the hotel's alarm and sprinklers wouldn't go off on their own. Then when it became apparent that they weren't going to, the fire had already engulfed the ballroom, and as a vampire, he is rather flammable. Plus, I just don't think anything short of the Volturi itself would've pulled him away from Bella while they were still in the building.

As for saving any of the others, the Cullens are not superheroes. To quote from Midnight Sun after Edward saves Bella from being killed by Tyler's van, "I had already done too much. As I'd flown through the air to push her out of the way, I'd been fully aware of the mistake I was making. Knowing that it was a mistake did not stop me, but I was not oblivious to the risk I was taking-taking, not just for myself, but for my entire family. Exposure."

When Edward and Bella were talking at the hospital, she was angry with him, and she asked him why he'd even bothered to save her. He answered that he didn't know. When he saw the accident in Alice's vision, he thought to himself, _Not her_. Had it been anyone else, he'd have let the accident happen. He only acted because it was Bella.

Not only had none of the others made any attempt to intervene-and this was someone they had a connection to, albeit a slight one-Edward caught hell that night for what he'd done, with Jasper going so far as intending to kill Bella that very night to keep her from talking. And he wasn't without supporters in the family. This was in spite of the fact that, if Bella had talked, her story would've been "easily discreditable" both due to her having hit her head and the sheer impossibility of it.

Even Edward couldn't have saved *all* of those who were trapped. How do you possibly chose who to save and who to let die? And how would have saved them? Burst into their room and run at his natural speed with them slung over his shoulder? Jumped with them from windows like he did with Bella? Guided them down smoke-filled hallways to the emergency exits?

If Edward had saved any of the other victims, they'd have talked. How could they not have? An inhumanly handsome young man appears out of nowhere, saves them, and then disappears. Their stories would have matched to some degree, and their description of him would have been recognized by the emergency responders and witnesses, who would have had to have seen at least something had he tried to save more people. Then, his description might have gotten around and gotten back to whoever was working the reception desk when he'd checked in. If it had been a woman, she might have remembered his name-they had checked in just the night before. His description and possibly even his name could have made it to the papers with his superhuman heroics. It would have been catastrophic.

Basically, it was their survival or his and everyone he loves. Makes Edward's baggage a little easier to understand when you think of it that way, I think.

As for his taking off like he did, Bella had the undeniable advantage over Edward, she learned the truth in private and had a chance to come to terms with it, plus she had already come to the realization that something was up on her own. Edward had the truth thrust at him unexpectedly, with no warning at all and under horrible circumstances. Is it really such a wonder he ran? He just couldn't face it. But like I said, no New Moon II!

I hope that explains my rationale for how the last chapter played out-now on with the show!

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As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"That was really where you were staying? Whoa."

The fire at the Hotel Sterling claimed the lives of twenty-three people and made headlines for days afterward. Reporters from every paper in the State of Washington from the Forks Forum to the Seattle Times were clamoring for interviews, and all were steadfastly denied. Tanya had explained it was vital that they left as little evidence of their presence as possible, and Bella understood perfectly. If someone were to recognize a family they knew today in a photo from decades ago, perfectly unchanged, it would be disastrous.

She wouldn't have wanted to talk to them anyway. Vultures had more tact and compassion than some of those reporters.

But even the worst could take lessons from Jessica Stanley. "You are so lucky," the other girl sighed. Even without the obvious jealousy in her voice, Bella knew Jessica didn't mean they were lucky they'd been away from the hotel at the time of the fire, which was the official story. The majority of the student body was talking about the fire and the fact that Bella had been staying at the hotel at the time, and Jessica had clearly been enjoying being so close to the center of the school's collective attention.

Bella momentarily let herself imagine the other girl's reaction if she told her that not only had she, in fact, actually been in her room at the time of the fire, but that her vampire boyfriend knocked his way through a wall and jumped from their 11th floor balcony with her in his arms to rescue her. She mentally smiled. Jessica might actually be shocked into silence. A silent Jessica would be lovely, even if it was only for a few seconds. But she stuck to the story. "I know. Thank God we weren't in our room at the time."

In a tone very different from Jessica's, Angela said, "When my parents got married, they stayed at the Sterling for one night before they left for their honeymoon. My mom said it was beautiful." Angela had hugged her tightly and nearly cried when she'd first seen her; she was so relieved they were all safe, but she hadn't mentioned it again.

Aside from Jessica, none of her friends had mentioned the fire other than telling her how glad they were she was safe when they saw her on Monday. But it was a small school, and Bella had overheard Jessica self-importantly whisper to anyone she'd been able to corner about her "very good friend who'd actually been staying at the hotel at the time of the fire" more than once these past two days. By contrast, when Angela mentioned that her parent's had once stayed at the hotel, her soft voice held nothing but genuine sorrow, none of the morbid excitement of Jessica's.

Visions of billowing black smoke and white sheets spread out on the ground flashed through Bella's mind, and her throat tightened. Trying to block out the screams she could still hear in her head, she pictured the intricate wrought iron and gilt banisters of the grand staircase, the elaborate scrolls on that banister as it wrapped around the lobby mezzanine, the elegant gold leaf of the letter S in the middle of the scrolls, the beautiful tile work and claw foot tub in her bathroom. "It was. It really, really was. It was… it was like… stepping into another world… another time…." Her voice trailed off as her eyes stared blindly across the crowded lunch room. Edward's time. The hotel had only been three years older than Edward; entering it had been like stepping into the world as he'd once known it.

She could still see the 19th century mahogany reception desk in the lobby with its flat screen monitor and wireless keyboard and mouse. The incongruity of it had made her smile when she'd first seen it. It wasn't unlike their Civil War era desk, with her laptop sitting on the green leather where Edward's fountain pen and ink had once sat. Sitting in front of the monitor on the reception desk had been a glass case containing one of the hotel's old register books from 1915, turned to a page featuring the signature of Mrs. Maggie Brown, known today as the Unsinkable Molly Brown. There had been a small portrait of her in the lobby, along with other famous past hotel guests.

Online, Bella had found a picture spread of before and after pictures, the lobby among them. The once grand space was now nothing but an unrecognizable, charred ruin. She didn't know what had made her Google it in the first place, but she wished she never had. She would have much prefered to have only her memory of how it once was. It was eerily similar to the pictures of the burnt out ruin of the Iroquois Theater where Edward's aunt and her family had died over 100 years ago. Fire now destroyed exactly as it had then—absolutely and completely.

"How is Edward, Bella? Is he feeling any better?"

Bella sighed. That was another part of the story. She was new to this, but already she began to see what Edward's life had been for the past nine decades—an endless web of lies. "He's still pretty bad. His fever was down some this morning, Alice said, but not much. Carlisle—Dr. Cullen I mean—said he'll probably be out all week."

Actually, what Alice had said was that they could only give her "stubborn, pig-headed idiot of a brother a week to get over himself and get his sorry butt back home where he belonged before people started questioning why he wasn't at the hospital if he was so sick." But unanswerable questions, like a trail of any kind, had to be avoided at all costs. Therefore as far as anyone in town knew, Edward had come down with a terrible case of the cold that was conveniently going around.

Bella was grateful for Angela's change of subject, but she was so worried about him that no matter how much Alice assured her "the stupid fool" was perfectly safe, it was hard to talk about him. She missed him and wanted him home yesterday, if not sooner.

In addition to the "Edward is sick" story, there was also the "Bella fell down the stairs" story to explain her injured shoulder. It was still swollen and painful, and Carlisle had explained it could take weeks to heal fully. So the "Bella fell down the stairs and dislocated her shoulder when she reached for the banister to break her fall" story had been born. With her track record, even with the short period of time she'd been in Forks, no one questioned it.

She wished they could've come up with a story that would have allowed her to miss school this week, too. If being the new girl in town hadn't been enough, her landing—as Jessica put it—the one available Cullen had instantly made her the center of attention at Forks High, which with her temperament was difficult enough normally. Add to that not only having been an eyewitness to the biggest news story of the moment, but actually having been staying at the hotel at the time of the fire, it seemed like _everyone_ was talking about her and trying to talk to her.

The Cullens had closed ranks around her. No one approached her with Emmett nearby. Even Rosalie had appeared at her side once when some senior boys had started to ask her questions. Emmett was the size of a redwood. Jasper was smaller, but somehow even more intimidating. But it was unquestionably Rosalie who scared her.

At lunch, though, she was on her own. The entire school watched everything she did now. If she ate with the Cullens at lunch, they would have to eat too, or it would be noticed.

Bella was grateful that—aside from Jessica, who seemed to feed off the attention she was getting for being Bella's friend the same way the fire had fed off everything in its path—the rest of her friends had taken it upon themselves to pick up from Edward's family at lunch.

She almost felt like a small child being passed from one caretaker to another, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too worried about Edward to really care about anything else. None of Alice's assurances helped. She wanted to see him with her own eyes and see he was safe. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and feel his icy coldness against her.

She also wanted to punch him for leaving like that and worrying her sick.

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"But I don't understand. Why can't you just _see_ when he'll come home?" Bella asked again.

Alice closed her eyes and very deliberately and very slowly counted to ten.

She had been explaining to Bella that she had a gift: she was psychic. Initially, Bella had been left speechless. Her best friend wasn't just a vampire—she was a psychic vampire. Then she had begged Alice to tell her when Edward would come home—an answer Alice didn't have.

"Because he hasn't _decided_ yet," Alice explained. "I can't just see any random thing, Bella. I told you; it doesn't work like that. All I can see is the result of a conscious decision someone makes. Or I can see possible outcomes when someone considers something, like you when you considered asking Tanya about the whether we can eat food. When he decides to come home, I'll see when he'll get here as a result."

It was now Wednesday night. Edward had been gone without a word since Saturday.

Alice instantly regretted losing her patience and put her arm around Bella. They were sitting in the third floor room Bella thought of as hers and Edward's. "I'm sorry Bella. I shouldn't have snapped. I know you're worried. If it was Jasper, and I couldn't see where he was, I would worry too. But, please believe me; Edward is fine—_stupid_, but fine."

Bella was quiet for several minutes before asking in a voice that was nothing but a whisper, "But… he will come home sometime, right? He's not…. He's not… leaving me?"

Bella had told Alice she wanted to punch Edward for running off like that and worrying her, and Alice swore to herself she would punch her brother herself on Bella's behalf for putting her through this. "No, Bella. He's not leaving. I promise, the thought hasn't even entered his head. That I'd unquestionably see."

Bella looked away. She tried to believe her but she was unconvinced, and Alice couldn't blame her. "Then why doesn't he come home? Why doesn't he at least call?"

"Bella, would you like to see something? Would you like to see how I know he would never leave you?" Alice stood and helped Bella up. "Just look at this." She opened a closet door in the corner of the room and pulled out a small trunk. Inside, Alice explained, were Edward's most prized possessions. Everything he treasured most was in this trunk. Bella's eyes immediately went to a stack of familiar purple-trimmed stationary tied with a blue ribbon.

"My letters."

"Your letters, the painting you sent him is there too, your lock of hair he keeps on him at all times. Now do you see? Edward could never leave you. He simply can't. Even if he wanted to he could never stay away from you for very long. He learned that the hard way already."

Bella's eyes snapped up from Edward's trunk.

"None of us asked for this, Bella. We all struggle with what we are, but Edward struggles more than any of us. He carries an enormous burden on his shoulders, and he's had to bear it alone for as long as he can remember. He also carries a tremendous amount of guilt."

"I don't—"

"You don't understand. I know. But I'm sorry, Bella; this is a discussion you're going to have to have with him."

Bella drew her hands away from Edward's trunk. As much as she wanted to see everything in it, she wanted to look through it with Edward.

"Alice… do you…. I mean, have… have you… ever… seen… me… like you?"

Alice didn't answer right away; her eyes were fixed on a random spot across the room as she seemed to struggle to find the right words. Finally, she said, "Bella, the only thing Edward wants for himself is you, but the only thing he wants for you is for you to have the chance none of us had, to live out your life the way none of us could. He wants you to have the life none of us were able to have. He wants you to grow and live and experience all the things we can't."

That didn't answer her question, and Bella was sure that was an answer by itself. She just wasn't certain what that answer was.

"And, Bella, it isn't as easy as what Edward wants."

Alice explained their treaty with the wolves. What it amounted to was that they were forbidden from biting a human. But, certainly, if it was what she herself wanted….

Bella changed the subject. "Is he still at the waterfall you told me about?"

Alice nodded her head. "He went there with Esme and Carlisle months ago. It's become one of his favorite places." The corners of Alice's lips twitched. She'd promised her brother she would never tell Bella of her visions of her future—he wanted her to stay human—but Alice knew Edward often thought of the vision he'd seen in her mind of him with a ruby-eyed Bella together under that waterfall. Alice loved her brother dearly, and she understood his wanting to protect his mate from their fate, but the visions of them together after Bella's change were coming more frequently and becoming more solid. Edward had been alone his entire existence. He had the love of their family, but it wasn't enough. What he needed and craved was the love of a mate. He had that now, and it was wonderful to see her lonely, stolid brother as perfectly happy and… _unrestrained_… as he was in her visions of his future with Bella.

It was also embarrassing as hell for both of them. Edward and Bella would prove to be very _unrestrained_ indeed. Alice smirked inwardly. Edward and Bella were going to make the stories she'd heard about Emmett and Rosalie's honeymoon period look positively G-rated.

Alice was trying to fight a smile and failing, and Bella smiled widely in return. "What? Alice, what? Have you seen something? Is he coming home?"

Alice shook her head. "No. I'm sorry." She started to laugh and it was like listening to bells peal. Alice's laugh was contagious, and Bella was soon laughing herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get your hopes up. I just can't help it."

"What's so funny?"

"It's nothing. Really. I…. I just can't stop remembering the shock of seeing you call Tanya and asking her point blank about whether we could eat food when you considered it. Not much can surprise me, Bella, but you certainly managed it that day. You have _no idea_ how hard it is to keep a secret around here. And _no one _can keep a secret from Edward for very long. No one but you it seems. If I'd had to hum the theme from Titanic one more time, I think I would've set myself on fire." Alice wiggled her eyebrows at her friend. "If he hadn't been so completely distracted by a certain someone, I'd never have been able to keep it from him."

"Why is that? Why can no one keep a secret from Edward?"

"Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. I've already said too much. You're going to have to talk to him."

Their sudden laughter faded as quickly as it had come. "I'd love to talk to him. If he'd just come home."

Alice placed her pale white hand on Bella's soft pink one. "He will. He will. But Bella…. I know you're angry with him, and you have every right to be, just please don't be too hard on him. He's hard enough on himself. Be patient with him. I can't imagine how you've handled this so well, but please understand, it's been hard on him too."

Bella nodded. "He's always been too hard on himself. I wanted to tell him I knew the truth gently." She rolled her eyes and added sarcastically, "So much for that."

Alice chuckled. "No, that definitely could've gone better."

Bella shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I've just had a chance to get used to it." Bella tilted her head to the pile of her letters. "And it's not like it's my first experience with something that wasn't supposed to be possible. Really, it isn't the worst possibility that entered my head."

Alice's eyes popped open wide, but before she could ask Bella spoke, shaking her head emphatically and regretting she'd said that. "No. No way. You'd laugh."

"Oh, come on!"

"No. Absolutely not."

"I promise, I won't laugh."

"Oh, yes. Yes, you would."

"Please?" Alice's hands were clasped in front of her chin, and she gave Bella her best puppy dog eyes.

"Oh, that's so not fair!" Bella complained.

Alice smiled deviously. "Life's not fair, Bella. Deal with it."

Bella rolled her eyes and looked away. She folded her arms. "Cheater." She waited and peeked back at Alice, who hadn't moved a muscle except to smile even wider. Bella caved. "It's not my fault. It's Tanya's. She put the thought in my head. Blame her."

"Tanya's fault. Blame her. Got it. Now tell."

"I… I may've…. I mean… not _really_…. I mean you're _obviously_ not, but still, Tanya did mention it… and I'd only just gotten the picture of Edward with his parents from his cousin, Michael, and as soon as I saw it I realized I already knew it was him, I just didn't know _how_ it _could_ be him, and I never would've thought of it if Tanya hadn't said what she said, but she did say it, and I knew she'd seen the picture, and it was like she was trying to tell me—"

"Bella, you're making me dizzy."

Bella dropped her face into her hands. "Zombies."

There was a split second of silence before riotous laughter could be heard coming from all over the house. Bella looked up at the ceiling and yelled, "STUPID VAMPIRE HEARING!"

The laughter only got louder.

While doubled over with laughter, Alice suddenly made such a horrible gagging sound, Bella had a brief moment of pure panic wondering if vampires could choke before the entire Cullen family was gathered around them, matching looks of fear on their beautiful faces. Bella's heart dropped to her feet. Her mind kept repeating one word, trying to make her body obey but she couldn't make a sound. _Edward. _It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of her, and she couldn't remember how to inhale. _Edward. _For the second time in her life she felt a fear so intense it physically hurt. And both times it was for the same reason. _Edward. _Something had happened to Edward.

No, that wasn't right. Something was _going_ to happen to Edward. Alice had told her she saw visions, saw things _before _they happened. People made decisions, and Alice saw the results before they happened.

Had… had Edward… decided something?

The room started to spin. Bella could hear voices. At least she thought they were voices, but really, they sounded more like strange, high-pitched whirring sounds than voices. Cold steel bars wrapped around her, and she struggled to get free. If Edward had….

If he thought for one second he could just walk away and leave her, he had another thing coming. Vampire or not, she'd go after him. She'd already found him once without even knowing he was out there to be found. She'd find him again. Just as soon as she got these damn bars off her and made the room stop spinning.

Bella pushed and twisted and tried everything but the bars didn't budge. The strange whirring noises were slowing. They _were_ voices. At least they were voices _now_. She didn't know what they were before.

"Bella. Stop it. Please, listen to me. Jasper, help her. Bella, listen to me. Stop it. I'll let you go, but you have to listen to me first."

Bella felt boneless with the wave of calm that swept over her, and she collapsed heavily against her iron cage as she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with oxygen. She looked around as the spinning stopped. "Esme?" Her iron cage was _Esme_? A cold hand pressed gently against her face, and Bella leaned into it; the coolness felt wonderful.

"Are you OK now, sweetheart?" Esme asked her.

She wanted to say that yes, she was OK. She was better than OK. She was wonderful. This calm was _wonderful._ But the knowledge that her stubborn, pig headed, IDIOT boyfriend was leaving her because he blamed himself for something that wasn't a problem was still foremost in her mind. The calm wrapped around it, but it didn't cover it. "Edward…. I have to go. I have to go to him. Esme, I have to find him." Tears filled her eyes as Bella looked at Esme, Edward's mother for the past ninety-one years.

"Bella, no. Darling, it's not Edward."

Not Edward? But that wasn't right. It had to be Edward. The rest of the Cullens were all here. She looked from face to face in confusion. Carlisle wasn't in the room now, but he had been before her panic attack. Esme was closest to her, holding her up. Alice was sobbing into Jasper's shoulder. Emmett and Rosalie were across the room. Emmett looked murderous, truly frightening. Even Rosalie's normally impassive face radiated anger. Edward was the only one not here. Her fath….

Bella's eyes widened in horror. Her father and Tanya weren't here. Of course they weren't. Her father was at the station but would be home soon. Tanya was waiting at their house for him. The station. The _police_ station. Bella's eyes filled with tears. How many times had she worried about her father? Forks was a small town, but being a police officer was a dangerous job wherever you were. Drug dealers came to Forks from Seattle, from Olympia…. They didn't care if they shot a big city cop or a small town cop.

Her legs felt weak, and if it wasn't for Esme still having an arm around her, Bella knew she'd be on the ground.

If anyone had hurt her father….

Bella looked at Carlisle as he silently reentered the room, looking grave and solemn, and stood at his wife's side. If anyone had hurt her father, she and Carlisle were going to have to have a talk whether Edward liked it or not. Carlisle had changed Edward. Or sired. Or whatever they called it. He could change her, too. She'd wondered what it would be like to be a vampire a few times these past few weeks, but she'd never really given it any serious thought. That must've been why Alice hadn't seen it, Bella reasoned. She'd never truly considered it. All she wanted was to be with Edward. If she could do that as a human, what was the point of becoming a vampire? She'd even thought a few times that as a human she could be helpful to them—help keep their cover, be seen publicly doing all the things they couldn't.

But if anyone had hurt her father, she wanted their blood.

She met Esme's eyes. They were so full of anguish, Bella was surprised there were no tears streaming down her angelic face. She tried three times before she was able to voice the words. "My dad?"

"No, no, darling."

Bella's legs gave out in relief, and Esme guided her to the black leather sofa. The relief was short lived though. The two women sat on the couch, and Carlisle knelt in front of them. "Tanya?"

"Bella, Alice's vision…." Carlisle was at a loss for words, and he looked away.

Jasper tightened his grip on his grief-stricken mate and looked at Bella. His eyes showed all the pain that was missing from his calm, authoritative voice when he spoke. "Tanya's sister, Irina, and her mate, Laurent, were attacked by a former covenmate of his, a woman named Victoria. She…. She's… made herself some knew friends. The attack was unprovoked. Unpremeditated. They were killed."

"Ki… _killed_? But… but…." _But you're vampires!_ Bella wanted to say, but Alice's comment a few minutes ago came back to her. "I'd set myself on fire," she'd said. Her father had told her last Easter that Tanya's mother had died in a fire.

Fire.

Bella looked back at Jasper. She was in shock. Overwhelmed. She hadn't even realized she'd looked away.

But the shock was wearing off now. Tanya's sister and her mate had been attacked and killed. Burned. By someone they'd known, or at least who he'd known. Apparently for no reason.

_No, there had to have been a reason. No one would do something like that for no reason._

Filled with anxious energy as adrenaline pumped through her, Bella stood up and paced around the room as her mind worked. _Tanya's sister was attacked._

_Why?_

She looked back around the room at Edward's family. It wasn't just Tanya's sister who'd been killed, it was also their cousin, and their pain over her death was obvious. She'd been Edward's cousin, and he….

Edward.

Edward didn't know. And he was out there _alone_.

As was Tanya. And her father.

Bella's heart pounded. What if whoever did this came after them next? They were sitting ducks, her dad especially. "We have to get Edward. My dad is at the station, and Tanya is at our house. We have to get them. None of us can be anywhere alone. Whoever did this could come here next."

Jasper looked at Bella calculatingly, appraisingly. "If there was any danger to any of us, Alice would've seen it."

Bella continued to pace the room, the back of her left hand slapping against the palm of the right in nervous energy. "No. There is a danger. No one attacks someone else for no reason."

She remembered in her first letters with Edward he'd told her about a case his father had been working on. Over one hundred waiters had been taken into custody, and four people had been arrested. No one could believe it. It was inconceivable, but they had been poisoning people, slipping something into their food or drinks, just because they hadn't tipped enough. She told Edward's family about the case. She shook her head, feeling sick. "There's always a reason. It might be a jackass stupid reason, but there's _always_ a reason. There was some provocation, some motive. We just don't know what it was. This Victoria, there could've been bad blood between her and Irina's mate. They were friends at one time you said?"

"Friends isn't the right word. They were covenmates. They traveled together for mutual convenience, but that doesn't mean there was any real friendship involved."

Bella nodded her head, thinking. "But there may have been?"

"Yes, there may've been."

"But he left. Because of Irina? This Victoria might not have liked that. Maybe there was more than friendship involved, at least on her part. She may have wanted him for herself."

Jasper shook his head. The rest of the Cullens watched silently, heads turning from Bella to Jasper and back like some kind of verbal tennis match. Bella served. Jasper returned. "Victoria had a mate, James," Jasper responded.

"But you said they were attacked by _a former covenmate_. Only one. This James wasn't there when Victoria attacked Irina and Laurent. She attacked alone. One against two? _No one _attacks someone else for no reason whatsoever, especially not if they're outnumbered. Why wasn't James with her? Where he and Laurent close? Would he have been against it?"

Jasper was sizing Bella up; his admiration of her was growing. He could feel how intense her fear was—she obviously truly believed there was a danger—but her mind was sharp. Focused. Rational. Calculating. She would make an excellent addition to their family. His brother had chosen very, very well. "James is dead. The wolves killed him."

Bella's head snapped around. She meet Jasper's eyes before looking away and back several times before staring blankly at the wall across from her, her lips moving silently as she thought—something she had seen Edward do. "Tell me everything," she demanded.

Jasper looked to Carlisle, who nodded his head. "She is Edward's mate. She is a part of this family."

Bella smiled at Carlisle's words—Edward's adoptive father's words—in spite of her fear. She wasn't just Edward's girlfriend. She was his _mate_. And he was hers.

Jasper nodded his head at Carlisle in return and began. "Last year, around February, Laurent passed through the area. We were playing baseball at a clearing several miles outside of town. There is nothing around for miles. Laurent heard us and came to investigate. He had parted ways with his coven and was traveling alone.

"Bella, one thing you have to understand is that _we_ are an anomaly in every way. We and Tanya's family are the only ones of our kind who live as we do. The others are nomads. They drift from place to place alone or with a mate. A group as large as ours is unheard of. Even a coven of three, such as Laurent and James and Victoria, is unusual. There are exceptions of course, larger groups who band together, but they don't generally last longer than a few decades. Or if they do, they are just casual alliances, traveling together when mutually beneficial and apart for the same reason. The nomads are too… predatory… in nature to maintain close ties for an extended period of time, except with a mate.

"As I said, Laurent heard us and came to investigate. Most of the nomads are aware of us. Even in our world, word travels. Occasionally, we cross paths with the others. Some are curious enough to approach us. A few have even been curious enough to… sample our diet, but none have found it to their liking before. After traveling with James and Victoria for a few decades, Laurent was understandably… more accepting of our outlook… than the others, but our numbers intimidated him. Tanya told him of her smaller family in Alaska, and he went in search of them."

Bella had gone pale during Jasper's speech, and she swallowed several times, trying to fight of the nausea she felt. "Whe… when you say… sa… sam… sample your diet… you… you mean… the others… they… they…."

"They hunt humans, yes."

Bella sucked in a breath and pressed her hand against her stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to fight against the bile threatening to rise in her stomach. "I… I never… I… I mean… I… I know… I know you don't… do… that…. I just… I never…. I mean…. I just never… thought… _others_…."

Bella wiped tears away from her eyes. Why hadn't she ever thought…? Why hadn't she ever realized there had to be others? A species of, what, twelve? Thirteen? She should have realized there would be others. The missing campers from last spring hadn't been killed by a bear. She knew it without having to be told. They'd been killed by vampires. Human blood drinking vampires. This Victoria and James…. This Victoria and James had killed them. And Jacob's wolves had killed James in response.

She drew a shuddering breath and tried to get a hold of herself. Those poor people were long dead, and they had their families and friends to mourn them. Her tears wouldn't help anyone, not the dead or their families, not Edward or his family, not her father or Tanya or herself, and she wiped them away angrily. "Right. OK. I'm sorry. I'm OK now. Finish what you were telling me."

"Bella—" Esme started, but Bella interrupted her.

"No. Tell me."

Jasper looked back to Carlisle who nodded his head again, more sadly this time, Bella noted. He continued, "We were on a hunting trip when Victoria and James came through the area looking for Laurent. Edward had gone off on his own for a while, and Alice and I had gone off on our own. Carlisle, Esme, Tanya, Emmett, and Rosalie were together, and it was they who Victoria and James approached. They warned them not to hunt in the area, and they agreed. They'd only just hunted in Seattle, they said."

Bella shivered involuntarily, and Esme reprimanded Jasper for not thinking before he spoke.

"No, Esme. It's OK. It's pointless to hide from the truth. Go on, they'd just hunted in Seattle?" _People are murdered every day. This is no different. Just don't think about that. Edward doesn't do that. His family doesn't do that,_ Bella told herself.

Jasper continued, "Nothing about them seemed especially threatening. They mentioned they were looking for their friend, for Laurent, and he'd mentioned them as well. There was no reason to see them as a threat. If Edward or I had been there, we'd have known better."

Bella wanted to ask why that was, but she didn't interrupt.

"Carlisle told them he'd been here for a while but had gone up to Alaska. They were both visibly surprised to hear he'd taken a mate and was staying with her and three others, but they said they were happy for him. Victoria said since he had just taken a mate, they'd leave their visit for another time. James was disappointed, irritated even, but Victoria told him now was not the time, that their visit could wait. Finally, he agreed they'd find him later. They swore they wouldn't hunt in the area and left. The campers… went missing… less than a week later."

Carlisle finished the story. "The wolves exist for one reason only—to protect humans from our kind. Edward, Emmett, Rose, Esme, and I," he nodded his head toward his son, daughter, and wife as he spoke, "encountered them while we were hunting when we were in Forks the first time several decades ago. Your friend, Jacob's, grandfather was the chief at the time. It was very tense. Their instincts told them to attack, but we were five to their three. They could see for themselves that, as we told them, we were different from the others, and in the end we were able to negotiate a truce, a treaty."

Bella nodded her head in understanding. "That's what he meant, then. Jacob. Last Easter when I visited my dad, I had it out with Jacob over the way his father was acting over my dad's relationship with Tanya. I asked him why the tribe was so against your family that his father would jeopardize a lifelong friendship over it. He said he couldn't say, because you wouldn't allow him to."

Carlisle nodded. "We keep our end of the treaty, they keep theirs. They don't tell anyone what we are; we don't bite a human."

Bella was for silent for several moments as her mind worked. "But the wolves only killed James, not Victoria. Why wouldn't they have killed her too?"

It was Jasper who answered her. "They tried, but she escaped."

Bella returned to her pacing of the room and her silent mumblings before turning to Jasper. "How many wolves are there?"

"Currently, there are ten in the pack."

Her head snapped up, shocked. "Two against _ten_? And she _escaped_?"

"They aren't all in their wolf form at the same time. They patrol in shifts. It's especially easy for them now that there are so many. The pack used to be much smaller, but with so many of us here for so long, it's grown larger in response. There were only three in their wolf form at the time, but they were quickly joined by two more. The others soon phased as well, but by the time they arrived, it was over."

"So it was two against three at first, at least for a little while, then two against five. It still seems hard to believe she could've escaped."

"The wolves can't climb trees and we can. If you can make it into the forest, it's not too terribly difficult to get away. If that's what you're trying to do."

"What do you mean, _if _that's what you're trying to do? They were outnumbered two against five, do you mean this James tried to fight them _all_?"

"You have to understand, Bella, the wolves are our natural enemies, and it's not in either of our natures to back down. Two against three, the fight could go either way, depending on how skilled the two are compared to the three. But once the others arrived…. Two against five? It still isn't impossible, but the two would have to be exceptionally skilled. James and Victoria weren't."

Bella's eyes drifted to the small deck, momentarily seeing a balcony filled with smoke. She pushed the thought away. _There has to be a reason._

The moment she repeated the thought in her head she saw what she believed was the reason and her eyes widened. It was so obvious. "What if James and Victoria _hadn't_ been outnumbered? What if it had been _three against three_?"

Jasper didn't need any time to consider it. He saw Bella's point, and his posture took on the attitude of a military general preparing for battle. "James and Victoria would unquestionably have had the advantage had the numbers been even at the start, had Laurent been with them. The wolves undeniably have the strength, but they had no skill. Without the numbers being in their favor, they would've lost the fight. They were too smug, too sure of themselves. They were undisciplined. They were children fighting an enemy with centuries of combined experience. But they had the numbers in their favor, and that was the deciding factor."

"Laurent left. Had he not left, they would've been three. Had he not left, James would not have been killed."

Alice spoke for the first time, shaking her head. "If Victoria had intended to destroy Laurent because she blamed him for James' death, I'd have seen it." She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples as if she was trying to coax a vision to come. "I'm sure of it. If there was a danger to one of us, I'm sure I'd have seen it. The moment she decided, I'd have seen it. I'm sure of it." Alice seemed to be talking more to herself than to the rest of them.

Esme attempted to consoled her. "Alice, you're not a—"

Esme never got to finish because Alice's head had snapped up, her eyes wide with sudden understanding. "I did. I did. I did see it the moment she decided. I don't think she ever intended to attack him. Not until moments before it happened."

Rosalie spoke for the first time, clearly skeptical but not entirely disbelieving. "Why would she change her mind? To suddenly decide to risk taking us all on? That's not a spur of the moment decision."

Alice looked at the ground before slowly raising her head and looking at her mate. "It wasn't a sudden decision. Not taking _us_ on. It was _including Laurent _in the attack that was the spur of the moment decision. I don't think it was him she blames for James' death. It's _us_. She blames _us_. When she saw Laurent's eyes she must have decided to include him by default, guilt by association, but it's _us_ she blames. They were caught off guard, unprepared, because _we_ didn't tell them about the wolves. I didn't see her plan because it involves revenge on the wolves. That's what her new friends are for."

Esme explained to Bella that Alice's visions were blind to anything that involved the wolves.

Jasper looked at Carlisle; he was now every bit a military officer. All that was missing from his address to Carlisle was the 'Sir.' "It makes sense. The campers were clearly an act of defiance. They played with them, drew it out. If they had known about the wolves I'm sure they would have—" Jasper broke off suddenly and looked at Bella apologetically.

She'd gone bone white, but finished his sentence, staring blankly straight ahead. "They would have been quick about it."

Jasper agreed.

Emmett cracked his knuckles. "She's coming after us? Bring it on."

Esme scolded him. It was surreal, Bella thought—like he was a small boy who'd been caught taking a cookie before dinner.

Her head swam. The whirring noises returned, making her dizzy. There was a vampire with a vendetta against Edward's family. A vampire, no a group of vampires… this Victoria and her new friends were coming after Edward's family. Esme's arms circled around her again as her vision blurred.

Bella's final thought before she fainted was that Edward was out there somewhere unaware of what had happened, of what was happening. And he was alone.

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. The winner will be announced on December 28th.  
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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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That damn Victoria!

A teaser for the next chapter can be found on Fictionators – Teaser Mondays, Twi Fic Central – Wednesdays, Twi & VD Fic Recs – Tuesday, and Twilight Fic Zone – Sunday. I will also try to visit the Sneak Peek campfire on A Different Forest on Monday night, but that seems to be one of the nights that my grandson visits, so… no promises. It's the same teaser regardless of which site you see it on.

Drop me a line and let me know if you liked it!


	39. Chapter 39

**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. The winner will be announced on December 28th.  
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**.**

**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"Oh, yes I am," Bella insisted.

"Bella, please. Be reasonable. You can't go with them. You need to stay here where it's safe. Edward would want you where it's safe. I promise, they'll bring him back."

Bella glared at Tanya from across the Cullens' kitchen. "If Edward wanted a say in the matter, then he shouldn't have run away in the first place."

She, her father, Tanya, and various Cullens had been at this same argument since Carlisle waved the smelling salts under her nose, all of them trying to convince her it was better that Emmett, Alice, and Carlisle go after Edward alone—Alice to see if anything changed, Carlisle to reason with his son, and Emmett to drag his brother back bodily if Carlisle's reasoning failed—and her arguing that it was her mate they were going after.

"Dad, if it was Tanya?"

Her father sat at the kitchen table, both hands wrapped around an untouched and long-gone-cold cup of coffee. He agreed with the others, Bella already knew that. She couldn't go. She had to stay here where it was safe. She was his daughter; of course he wanted her to be wherever was safest. She wouldn't have wanted him to go if it _had_ been Tanya either. But it wasn't Tanya. It was Edward.

It was _her_ Edward, _her mate_, and she _was_ going with them whether they liked it or not.

Charlie rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and stubbled chin before reaching out to take Tanya's hand and admitting, "I'd go alone if I had to."

"The longer we argue over this, the more time we're wasting," Bella looked around the room in desperation. She was so afraid, she could barely stand. Her legs felt like they were filled with Jell-O instead of muscle and bone, but the worst by far was the feeling of helplessness. Edward was out there alone, and he had no idea they were in danger. And she was helpless to protect him—_again_.

She had been helpless to protect him while he was still human and the threat was that damned flu, and she was just as helpless to protect him now.

"Please," she begged.

The Cullens had all assured her that Edward was safe, that no one could sneak up on him—and even if they could, they would never catch him. He was much too fast.

But he was her mate, and he was out there alone while some insane bitch made herself a vampire army to come after them because she and her sadistic boyfriend had been too stupid to do what they'd promised they would and just leave, and he had gotten himself killed as a result. The Cullen's reassurances meant nothing. She wanted Edward where she could see him.

Alice ran her hands through her hair roughly, causing the ordinarily perfectly styled short, black strands to stand up in messy spikes all over her head. She had remained silent up until now with her head on the table and her hands clasped behind her head. She sighed in defeat. "She has to go."

Bella silently whooped for joy at having someone back her up, but the others continued to argue against her going—it was too dangerous, she would only slow them down.

Alice shook her head. "It's no good. Bella has to go. If she doesn't, the moment that pigheaded idiot hears you coming, he'll take off. If Bella's with you, he'll stay."

"Dad, he saved me from the fire. I was sound asleep. Between the cold medication and my iPod, I slept right through the fire alarm. It took him knocking down a wall to wake me up. I never would've gotten out without him. And when we went camping last summer? That first day, when Jake and Billy freaked out when you all got back from fishing? There was a bear. It was huge. He saved me then, too. And he found me when I fell and hit my head in the woods. I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for him."

Alice said quietly, "I saw the bear attack Bella while we were hunting, Charlie. Edward ran hundreds of miles to get to her in time." She looked at Charlie and took the hand not holding Tanya's, "She'll be safe. I swear."

Charlie looked back and forth between Bella and Alice before silently nodding his head. A relieved breath whooshed from her lungs as Bella crossed the kitchen to her father and put her arms around him. She hugged him and kissed his cheek before turning to Carlisle. "How do we do this?"

"He's at a waterfall along a hiking trail. It's a few hours' drive from here, but at this time of night there should be very little, if any, traffic on the roads. We should be able to make the drive quickly."

Carlisle had been right; the drive had taken half the time it normally would have. Bella resolutely refused to look at the speedometer the entire time. The partially clear sky was moonlit, but even with the moonlight, it was very dark in the woods. So dark, she couldn't see more than a few feet down the trail they were going to hike for over a mile before they got to Edward.

Bella hoped their flashlights were strong—industrial strength type strong. Spotlight type strong.

Emmett laughed at her. "We don't need flashlights, Bella. We can see perfectly fine."

"That's all well and good for you, but what about me? I can't hike through the woods at night without a flashlight." Guilt started to work its way into Bella's mind. She _would_ slow them down. In her desperation to not be left behind, Bella hadn't admitted that to herself before.

Emmett only continued to laugh. "Oh, you're not hiking. We are. You're riding."

_Riding, _she thought to herself_._ "Riding what?"

Emmett's laughter was as genuine as a young child's. "Me."

"Excuse me?"

He stood in front of her, towering over her. He turned away from her and knelt down. "Put your arms around my neck." Emmett instructed, grinning back at her.

Bella hesitated only a second before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his impossibly thick neck. Continuing to look back at her over his shoulder, Emmett winked. "Now, hold on tight."

He stood up suddenly, and Bella gasped and tightened her arms around him. If he had been human, she'd have been choking him.

"Now wrap your legs around my waist."

Without a second though, she did.

"Welcome to the Emmett Express. For your safety, please keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times."

Without any other further warning, they were off. It felt like riding a horse. A vertical horse. _Not so very bad, _Bella told herself_. At this speed, even a mile will only take a few minutes. _

Very soon, it became so dark under the thick canopy of trees, Bella would barely have been able to see her hand in front of her face if she tried, but Emmett seemed to have no trouble following the path through the forest. She could barely see his smile as he looked back at her, checking to make sure she was alright.

She'd been just about to tell him to keep an eye on where they were going when he grinned wider. "You OK back there?"

"Oh, I'm fine. You know, just hanging around. This as fast as you can go? We're in a bit of a hurry you know. I know people in a nursing home down in Phoenix with walkers who could go faster than this."

Emmett laughed, but his voice held a challenge. "Ready to pick up the pace a bit then?"

Bella matched his smile for a second before he smirked and wriggled his eyebrows playfully. "Hold on tight then, little girl. It's gonna be a bumpy ride." He laughed again. "Always wanted to say that."

Then he took off.

Before had been like riding a horse, but this defied description. Being launched from a cannon might do it, but—as she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on not getting sick—Bella thought that would be a smoother ride.

This was like riding a drunk cannonball, if cannonballs could get drunk. This was bobbing and weaving and jumping and ducking.

Forcing herself to focus on Edward and the coolness of Emmett's shoulder against the side of her face, Bella managed to keep the nausea at bay. It was much better, actually, once she closed her eyes Bella realized. Not being able to see the practically-invisible-in-the-dark-until-the-last-second tree right in their path helped. What she didn't know, couldn't give her a heart attack.

Even with her eyes closed, Bella could sense that the darkness was even more absolute, and that combined with the bobbing and weaving, jumping and ducking told her they'd left the trail and were running through the forest itself.

"Still OK back there?"

"Ducky."

"You are one tough little human, Bella."

Sooner than she'd dared hope, Emmett suddenly came to a dead stop. It was the abruptness of the stop, much more than the speed, that had her head spinning and stomach turning.

"Thank you for riding the Emmett Express. We hope you enjoyed the ride. Have a pleasant evening."

Bella lowered her legs to the ground slowly; they were shaking slightly, and her head was swimming. She waited a few seconds to be sure words were the only thing that would come out if she opened her mouth and patted Emmett on the back. "Anytime my friends need to cover a mile of forest in under five minutes in the middle of the night, I'll be sure to recommend you. You are such a goof, Emmett."

He smiled and laughed. "Edward, I really like her. She's funny."

Bella twisted around wildly looking in the direction Emmett was facing as he spoke. If she didn't still have her hand on his shoulder, she'd have fallen over. She squinted and tried focus on something, anything, but it was so dark, she could hardly see a thing more than a few inches away. She could hear the waterfall nearby, but they were, she guessed, at least thirty feet away from it, deep in the woods. She looked back toward Emmett, even with his white shirt, as big as he was, and as close as he was, she could barely see him. She could only just make out his face as the ever present smile was replaced by a look of sympathy.

"What? What's wrong?" She grabbed his arm in a panic. "Emmett, what's wrong?"

Carlisle and Alice appeared next to her almost as if out of thin air. "Nothing is wrong, Bella. He's just—"

Before Carlisle could finish, Alice cut in, speaking unnecessarily loudly and looking back over her shoulder. "An idiot!" she shouted.

"Alice—"

"I'm sorry, Carlisle, but it's true."

Carlisle took Bella by the hand and carefully guided her through the darkness to where Edward sat. The moment Bella saw him, any anger she felt for his disappearing act drained out of her. Pure relief filled every cell in her body—relief and sympathy. Edward sat curled up into as small a ball as his over-six-foot frame would allow, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs which were drawn up to his chest, and his head bowed and resting against his knees. He was leaning against a large tree facing away from her.

In his letters, he'd once told her about his older cousin, Timothy, scaring him with stories of monsters in the tree outside his bedroom window when he was a small child. He said he'd spent the night curled up in a ball under his bed. She looked down at the man, but it was that scared little boy she saw.

Slowly, Bella knelt down next to him and hesitatingly ran her hand down his back, across his shoulders, and down his arms to his hands. His hands were normally cold. But now… now they were absolutely freezing. _He_ was absolutely freezing.

Her throat tightened painfully, and she cupped her warm hands over his icy ones.

Carlisle excused himself, saying they would give them some privacy.

It was brighter here, and Bella could see why. Several trees had been either uprooted or snapped in half like twigs. allowing more moonlight into the area. Edward was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn on Saturday. And they were wet—as was the ground he sat on and the tree he leaned against. His hair was damp. Had he been sitting out here alone all this time? Had he sat here all alone during the drenching rain they'd had earlier?

In all the time she'd argued to be allowed to come with them, all the time in the car getting here, Bella hadn't thought about what to say when she finally saw him again. She'd only thought about getting to him, not what she would say once she was there.

"Hey, Aggie." Bella cringed. _Hey, Aggie? _Was that really the best she could come up with?

Edward didn't look up. He didn't answer. He didn't move a muscle.

She rubbed her hand up and down his back and along his arms in a useless, subconscious effort to warm him up. Edward still didn't look at her. If anything, she thought he actually curled tighter into his little ball.

All she could do was wrap her arms around him and wait. If it took all night, she would wait right here next to him until he was ready to talk to her. "I love you, Edward." She pressed a hard kiss into his shoulder before resting her check against the same spot.

He didn't make her wait long, but his voice when he spoke reinforced the picture of the scared little boy in her mind. "How long have you known?" He still didn't look at her, didn't move at all.

She debated on an answer. Would the truth relieve him, show him it didn't matter? Or would it make him feel worse? "A while," she finally answered.

"Bella."

She bit her lip at his pleading tone. The whole truth it was then. However he reacted to it, she'd just have to deal with it, but she wouldn't lie to him. The time for secrets between them was over. "February."

Edward lifted his head a couple of inches and raised his eyes to her. The pain written all over his face made her heart ache. "_February?_ You've known I was a… a… _monster_… since _February_? And still you… you…."

Bella took his face in her hands and looked directly into his eyes. She couldn't be sure—it was too dark—but she thought they looked darker. They weren't the same amber gold she was used to. "Yes, I still." She left the sentence unfinished. Whatever he was questioning—still loved him, still wanted him, still trusted him, the answer was the same: Yes.

But that monster stuff had to go.

"And let's get one thing straight right now. You. Are. _NOT_. A monster. Got that?"

He turned away from her. "I know of 381 people who would disagree with you. Of course, they can't, seeing as how none of them survived our meeting."

Bella's body stiffened with shock at his words, but something inside her—she didn't know what, some instinct maybe—kept her from recoiling from him. Just the opposite—she wrapped her arms around him. She didn't say anything. There was nothing she could say to undo what Edward had just told her, nothing she could say to make it better. Edward had just confessed to her that he had killed 381 people.

"Still think I'm not a monster now?"

She nodded her head against his shoulder blade, and he laughed a short, disbelieving, self-disgusted laugh. It was almost a snort.

"You're not a monster, Edward. You're not. You're my hero."

He pulled away from her and stood with his back to her. She stood and reached out to him. He didn't lean into her, but he didn't walk away either. Bella took that as a good sign and stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back.

"You have a very twisted sense of the word."

"Do I?" Bella was getting angry now. Whatever he had done, it was in the past. He didn't do… _that_… anymore. He was a vegetarian, like the rest of his family. He only fed from animals they hunted in the woods. Carlisle had told her so.

Bella tightened her arms around him, still afraid he might run away again now that she knew why he had in the first place. She'd been foolish to not realize there had to be others out there, others who didn't adhere to the Cullens' diet. She'd been foolish to assume Edward hadn't… made any mistakes over the past ninety plus years. Whatever else his past might hold, they would just have to deal with it together.

"My definition of a hero is someone who helps someone else, even if there is a risk to themselves. You fit the bill." She waited but he didn't argue so she continued. "You saved me from that bear. You were in the woods that day." Bella's breath caught in her throat as she remembered how afraid she was when she saw that bear and the incredible relief of hearing his voice. She kissed the center of his back along his spine. "It was really you. Alice said you ran hundreds of miles to get to me. Thank you." Her voice broke with emotion as she spoke.

Edward's voice was so soft she had to strain to hear it when he finally spoke.

"I'd have run thousands. But you're still wrong."

"Am I? How?"

"A bear? Please, Bella. What, exactly, do you think we live off of? Rabbits?"

"Bears?" she choked out. Oddly enough, that shocked her as much as anything else had so far. And that was really saying something considering everything the 'anything else' consisted of.

"They're Emmett's favorite, actually. Personal grudge."

"Bears?" She felt his body shake slightly with quiet laughter at her incredulous tone of voice, and the feeling was so wonderful it made her laugh too. "Seriously? _Bears? _Holy _crap. _I mean, that thing last summer was freakin' _huge_. You've got quite the appetite, mister. _Bears_."

Bella tilted her head up, placing her chin against his back, and lightly tickled Edward's stomach. She smiled when she felt his body twitch in her arms.

"Oh, my. So what's your favorite? Lions or tigers?"

"Mountain lion."

"Seriously?! _Mountain lion_? No. No way. You're joking."

"Nothing about this is a joke, Bella."

Crap. She'd had him lightened up a bit, but now he was going all doom-and-gloom, 'I'm a monster' on her again.

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "And you found me in the woods when I hit my head."

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been in the woods in the first place."

Okay, she'd had enough of the self-recrimination. Time for some hardball.

"No. You're right. I will give you that," she agreed. "I wouldn't have been in the woods had it not been for you. Wanna know why?"

He didn't answer.

"Because. I'd. Have. Already. Been. Dead. Alice told me about her visions, Edward. That bear might not have been anything to you, but it could've—no it _would've—_mauled _me_ to death. Alice saw it."

Actually, Alice hadn't said anything about her vision about the bear other than that one time she mentioned it in their kitchen earlier tonight, but Bella could put two and two together as well as anyone. If that bear was just going to sniff around and leave, Edward wouldn't have run hundreds of miles to get to her, his voice wouldn't have sounded so scared when he'd called out to her.

"Want more? OK, fine. The bear might not have been a threat to you, but the fire sure as hell was!"

"I… I let… you… get hurt," Edward stammered.

"Let me get hurt? Let me get hurt?" Bella had to take a deep breath to keep her voice from rising. "Edward, you jumped with me in your arms _from the eleventh floor._ And you're upset because I dislocated my shoulder? Seriously? You're the only reason there isn't a Me-shaped dent in the sidewalk! No, actually I'd have died in my sleep. Personally, given all the options, I prefer the dislocated shoulder, thank you very much. _Let me get hurt_! Honestly, Edward!"

The confirmation that his Bella would have died coming in her own voice was too much for Edward; he spun around and held onto her like he was afraid the Grim Reaper himself was going to come and try and take her away from him.

Bella exhaled and nuzzled her face against his chest. This was better. So much better. They were by no means done, she knew that, but this was a definite step in the right direction.

"Two doses of cold medicine. _Two!_ What were you thinking?" Edward asked.

"I was thinking that I was tired, and I wanted whoever was drilling holes in my skull to stop."

"You should know better. They have recommended dosages _for a reason_, Bella. We didn't always know how much was too much of something. You warned me yourself not to take too much when you tried to send me medicine all those years ago."

"It's only been months for me." After hearing Edward acknowledge what they had experienced together, Bella's words came pouring out. "God, when I opened that compartment back up and saw those pills still lying there… I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to break something. I had a plan all worked out. It was so simple. I was angry with myself for not thinking of it sooner. I knew exactly what I was going to do. But when I saw those pills laying there… my plan was useless. I was useless. Everything I'd read about what you were facing…. There was nothing I could do but tell you to wash your hands."

"Shhh. It wasn't your fault I got sick."

Bella looked up at him, not liking the tone of his voice. "It wasn't your fault either." Her eyes filled with pride when she spoke. "You were so brave, Edward. So very brave. You and your mother. Your friends. You were all so brave. You've always been my hero." She stood on her toes and stretched up to kiss him gently before laying her head against his chest over his silent heart.

They were both quiet for several long seconds, each remembering—Bella, her own memories; Edward, Carlisle's.

"_Six days_. Michael said you were sick for _six days_. Your fever was almost 105. _105._" Tears were streaming down Bella's face, those horrible phrases running wild through her mind: _air hunger, wild bouts of delirium, cough with enough force some tore their abdominal muscles, became incontinent, foamy blood exited from their mouths and noses, blood pouring from the nose and possibly their ears, lungs filled with blood and faces turned blue, purple cyanosis, a mark of a patient who is being suffocated to death by a buildup of fluid in his lungs, uncontrollable hemorrhaging that filled the lungs, patients would drown in their own body fluids, struggle for air until they suffocate…._

Bella clung to Edward, crying so hard she was gasping for breath. Edward was terrified; Bella was becoming hysterical, and all he could do was rub her back and tell her not to cry, that it was OK, that he was here now, that all that was over, that it was all over a long time ago.

She struggled to talk through her tears. "I had a plan. I had a plan. I was going to get the medicine you needed. I was going to get it and send it to you. But it didn't work. It didn't work."

"Shhh, please Bella. Shhh. It's all over now. Don't cry. Please don't cry. It's all over."

"I was going to get you antibiotics and send them to you."

Edward cradled her against him, trying to calm her. "Love, you couldn't have just walked into a drug store and gotten antibiotics anyway. Antibiotics, antivirals, you'd have needed a prescription."

"There are places you can get prescriptions where they aren't particularly concerned with whether you're actually sick or not, Edward."

Edward grabbed her by the shoulders, even in his outrage he was careful to not grab her too hard. "WHAT! Bella, don't _ever_… Are you insane? Those places…. Bella, those people are dangerous! They're drug dealers! What were you thinking? Just because they're in an office and not on a street corner doesn't make them safe. They're still pushers. God, Bella! What…." He grabbed her and held her against him. He was at a complete loss for what to say. _What was she thinking? If anything had happened to her…. _

Bella took a deep breath and looked up at him, those beautiful brown eyes shining with tears, her beautiful face twisted and her voice thick with pain. Still, her quiet strength came through the pain loud and clear. "I was thinking the one I loved needed medicine that I could get and he couldn't, and I was God damned well going to get it for him. What would you have done had it been me? What did you do when it _was_ me?"

"What? Bella, when…."

"_The fire, Edward_. I know I have a lot to learn, but I know enough to know that fire is as dangerous for you as it is for me. But you came running again, just like with the bear."

Edward sighed and wrapped his arms around her again. "I didn't come running. I didn't have to. I was already there." Edward paused, unsure how she would take this. He'd essentially been stalking her. True, her father had known he was there. But she hadn't. _And Charlie's consent certainly didn't extend to fantasizing about what I wanted to do to his daughter while I…._

He cleared his throat. "I was in the room next to yours."

Bella stepped away from him, but not in anger, not to get away from him. She was surprised. Understandable. Her hands were flat against his chest, and she looked up at him wide-eyed.

Before Edward could explain himself, he could hear his father in his mind, reminding him it was the middle of the night and they were in the middle of the woods. Edward closed his eyes, annoyed with himself for not realizing Bella had to be cold. This wasn't the first time he'd failed to remember how delicate she was. She was so strong; it was too easy to forget how fragile she really was.

"Good Lord, what's wrong with me? You must be freezing."

He knew his own body temperature was lower than usual after being outside for days. It felt no different to him, but he knew even in a warm, dry room even his normal body temperature would be uncomfortably cold for her. But it was cold and damp in the woods; plus his clothes were wet. And he'd been holding her—her own clothes would be damp now too. How irresponsible could he be?

But she just continued to look up at him, absolute trust written all over her face.

_It wouldn't be if she knew the worst._

His Bella smiled, and his knees felt week. Angels would be jealous of his Bella's smile, and here she was, sharing it with a monster, a selfish, dangerous monster. "There are different types of cold, Edward. This is a cold I can deal with." Her face turned serious; her eyes filled with pain. "But when you… when you left…. That's a cold I _can't_ deal with. Don't _ever_ leave me like that again. Do you hear me, Masen? I can't lose you again. I can't."

_Masen…. _ It physically hurt to hear her use that name. He wasn't that person anymore. He hadn't been that person for a very long time. "Bella… I'm not… I'm not him anymore. I'm not even _human_." Edward wanted to cup her face with his hands. He wanted to gently kiss her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips…. He wanted to lay her down and make love to her. He wanted to spend forever drowning in those incredible eyes. But he didn't deserve her. He may have once, but that was long ago.

Before there was the blood of those 381 people on his hands.

He dropped his hands from her shoulders and looked at them. He could still see them covered with blood. He could still see those hands dropping each of those mutilated, bone white, bloodless corpses to the ground. Burying them in the woods. Dragging them miles out into the ocean. Weighing them down in lakes.

The same hands he'd dared touch Bella with.

He could still hear Carlisle's and Esme's sorrow when he'd left and their undeserved, immediate forgiveness, their joy and unconditional love and support when he returned.

"I'm a monster, Bella. You're so _pure_. So _clean_. How can you even stand to look at me?"

Just as Edward had wanted to do to her, Bella reached her hands up and cupped his face, her thumbs stroking the purple bruises he knew would be forming by now under his eyes even if it was too dark for her eyes to see. She let her fingertips cover his face. The feeling was indescribable as his mate's warmth seeped into him. Edward's eyes drifted shut, but flew open wide when her fingers brushed over his lips. Her own eyes were serious, sincere, and staring straight into his.

"I spent eight months believing you were dead, Edward. Eight. Months. That may not be much compared to ninety-one years, but it was a very long, very lonely time for me. I was empty until I found you. Until I found you _again_. You ask how can I stand to look at you? I can't stand to look away. You're part of me, Edward. All of you. _Both_ of you. Edward Masen _and _Edward Cullen." His mate's voice had started strong but broke as those incredible eyes filled with tears again. "When I thought…. When my letter was still there…. When I realized what that meant…." She dissolved into tears and fell into his arms, her body shaking as she sobbed.

He was helpless to calm her. He talked to her. He rubbed her back. He stroked her hair. But her tears continued. She shivered against him—whether from emotion or the cold he didn't know. He couldn't calm her, but he could at least get her warm. "Hold on to me."

Bella nodded her head against him and tightened her arms around him. "Always."

Just as the warmth of her hands had, that one word worked its way inside Edward and refused to leave, settling in his chest, into the heart that hadn't beat in so very long.

He scooped her up into his arms and hurried through the woods to where he knew Carlisle and Alice waited with the car running and the heater on.

_I've got dry clothes for you both, Edward._

"Thank you, Alice."

Bella picked her head up off his shoulder and looked at him in confusion. "Did you just thank Alice?"

"She has dry clothes for you."

She shook her head and rested it against his shoulder again. "Stupid vampire hearing. Just how far away can you hear someone anyway?"

Edward knew she knew everything, Carlisle had told him before Emmett had arrived with her, but hearing her say the word was like being shot.

Before Edward could answer, they cleared the woods and Alice took charge, ushering Bella into the warm car to change into dry clothes and banishing him back into the woods to change into dry clothes himself.

_And no peeking, dear brother._ Even her mental voice held a smirk. _Not that you haven't already seen it all before. _

Emmett was considerably more explicit with his own thoughts of Edward's burgeoning intimate relationship with his mate even as he stood, arms crossed, between Edward and the car. To anyone casually looking on, he would have looked like Bella's personal bodyguard. Only Edward could hear his silent whooping and hollering that it was about time his little brother got himself some.

Edward groaned and refused to look back at his siblings.

Alice returned to the car as Bella changed, and Carlisle walked with Edward into the woods. When his father had told him a short while ago that Bella knew everything, when Edward had caught her scent in the air and knew he had only seconds until she was there, his anxiety had been so all-consuming, he hadn't noticed there was something his father, Alice, and Emmett were hiding from him. But it was evident now. It was equally evident that it was something even bigger than Bella's knowing what he was.

Edward pulled his own dry clothes on and as he buttoned his shirt, he faced the only father he could remember with fear growing inside him. Edward's eyes flashed to the car and back. "Carlisle, what is it? What's wrong?"

_Something has happened. Victoria…._ Carlisle mentally told him what had happened, and Bella's theory as to why it had happened.

Even as Carlisle was still speaking to him, Edward flew past his father toward the car, his need to keep his mate near overriding everything else.

He heard Alice as she thought to him, _She's _fine _Edward. I knew you'd go completely ballistic if you couldn't see her with your own eyes. I lied about a vision. I've _never _done that before. I told them you would run again if Bella wasn't with us. You owe me big time. BIG time. Like, Italian sports car big. _

Edward squeezed Alice's shoulder in gratitude as he passed. His Bella was facing away from him and just putting her arms into to the sweater Alice had brought for her. He could see her shoulders through the dark windows before she pulled the soft wool down her body, and he stopped short. Bella's shoulders and arms were covered by yellowing bruises that exactly matched the shape and size of his fingers. Edward turned his face away and squeezed his eyes shut, but the image was burned into his mind.

Alice slapped him in the back of the head. "_Focus, Edward! Crazed, vindictive vampire. Remember?_ She relented and added in a softer tone, _She's _fine_, Edward. _She poked him in the shoulder. _Except that she's been missing you like mad. _

"I missed her, too," he said absently before mentally shaking himself. Crazed, vindictive vampire. Right. "Kate? Carmen and Eleazar?" he asked.

"I spoke to them. They are on their way. Jasper wants us all together," Carlisle said.

Edward nodded his agreement and hesitated only a moment before asking, "How are they?"

He could hardly imagine the pain they would be in. Carlisle's memory of Tanya's agonized, tortured face answered his question.

Carlisle addressed him. "The wolves need to be informed."

Edward closed his eyes in resignation but again nodded his head in agreement.

"I need you there," Carlisle said.

Edward nodded a third time as he opened the car door and climbed in the back seat. Bella immediately slid over, curling up next to him, and he wrapped her safely in his arms, swearing he would personally disembody Victoria.

"I think it would be beneficial if Charlie and Bella were there as well," Carlisle added in a soft voice, but not so soft that Bella's human ears hadn't heard.

"No. Absolutely not," Edward said vehemently.

"Whoa, hold up." Bella picked her head up from his shoulder and looked around. "It would help if we were where for what?"

"Bella, no. It's too dangerous."

Bella looked at him, and her eyes hardened. "I didn't ask you." She turned to look at Carlisle, "It would help if we were where?"

Carlisle and Alice both directed their thoughts to Edward; both their thoughts ran along the same line, but where Carlisle's were sympathetic, Alice's were blunt.

_I know you want to protect her, but if you shut her out, it will drive a wedge between you. She's stronger than you realize. She won't stand for being coddled._

_You are far from off the hook for your disappearing act, Edward. Don't push your luck._

Edward grimaced and looked away as Carlisle answered her, "We need to contact the wolves. Inform them."

Bella nodded in understanding. "And we could help… bridge the sides. We're in."

Edward was desperate. The wolves were _dangerous_. Didn't his father and Alice understand that? Did they think Rover's mate had ripped _herself_ to shreds? How could Carlisle have even suggested it in the first place? "It's not necessary. We've dealt with the wolves before."

Bella turned to him angrily, but her glare melted away when she saw the look of fear in his eyes. She ran her fingers down the side of his face, and his eyes drifted shut as he turned toward her touch. "You'll be there. I'll be perfectly safe."

He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Bella, please understand—"

"I do understand. I understand better than you realize."

"It's dangerous. _They're_ dangerous. I know Jacob was your friend. I know that, and I know how much you miss him. But they're unstable. Unpredictable."

"Are they as dangerous as spending twelve hours a day, every day, in a hospital filled way past capacity with people sick and dying from a highly contagious and untreatable disease?"

"That's not—"

"Are they?"

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "They are two wholly different things."

"I know you're worried, Edward. I get it. Believe me, I know the feeling." Bella addressed Carlisle, "When and where?"

.

.

Hours later, Edward sat in Alice and Jasper's room with his legs drawn up and his elbows resting on his knees as he watched Bella sleep. He was a lost man. He could quite happily sit here, mesmerized, and watch his mate sleep for hours. Her eyes moved behind closed lids as she dreamed. She shifted and sighed and curled up and stretched out over and over, and every second of it fascinated him.

But then it all changed. Her eyes still danced as she dreamed, but she flinched. The gentle smile on her lips was erased. Her forehead creased. Her heart was pounding, and her breathing became erratic. As Edward stood to wake Bella from her nightmare, her mouth moved silently before she bolted upright, eyes wide with fear and gasping for breath. Her eyes fixed on him, and she jumped from the bed and into his outstretched arms.

"Shhhh. It's alright, love. It was just a bad dream."

Edward ran his hand up and down her back soothingly as he spoke, but she shook her head and buried her face into his chest. "There wasn't…. I couldn't…."

"Bella, love, it was just a dream. It's over now. You're safe. I've got you."

He'd heard enough nightmares over the years to know that even though they were often completely illogical, they could be absolutely terrifying to the dreamer—perhaps all the more so because they were so completely illogical.

Bella continued to shake her head as she started to cry. "It was her. It was her."

"Victoria?" Bella's arms tightened around him as she nodded her head.

"Bella, love, look at me." She raised her tear stained face to him, and he gently wiped her tears away. "Please believe me. She doesn't stand a chance. I don't care how many new friends she's made for herself. She won't get anywhere near you. I promise."

Bella pushed him away and angrily wiped the rest of her tears away herself on the back of her hand. "Me? _Me? _ You think…. Dammit, Edward!"

She threw her arms around him and gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly in her delicate little fists. Edward didn't understand. Ninety years… ninety _centuries_ of reading the minds of everyone he came into contact with would have been insufficient for him to understand the unaccountably angry girl in his arms, but if there was one lesson Edward had learned from his father and brothers, it was that there were times it was best to just keep his mouth shut. Although he was new at this, Edward could see this was clearly one of those times, and he stayed quiet as he continued to hold his mate, slowly rubbing her back and feeling her warm, soft skin through the pajamas she wore.

He wasn't patient by nature—as a vampire or, from what he knew of his past self from Carlisle, as a human—but in this case, Edward forced himself to wait, and eventually, in her own time, his Bella opened up to him.

It wasn't _herself_ she was afraid for, it was _him_.

Edward knew that now was the time for him to say something, but he was at a loss for words. Bella's nightmare was that Victoria had come for him, and _she_ had been powerless to protect _him_.

They had been trapped, corned with no escape. Bella had lunged toward Victoria to protect him, but the other vampire had flung her aside like a rag doll before turning back to him, moving in for the kill.

Bella's protecting him was contrary to everything Edward believed—he understood they came from very different worlds with very different views on the roles of the sexes, but damn it all, he was the man; it was _his_ place to protect _her_ from harm, not the other way around.

He was also hurt at the knowledge that she didn't believe him capable of protecting her.

_Tread lightly, Edward. I know how you feel, and it's understandable, but she is very vulnerable right now. You've saved her, but she was unable to save you. She still carries tremendous guilt over that—more, even, than she fully realizes. She feels she let you down, and she feels an intense need to protect you now as a result. You and I know that is impossible, but that doesn't lessen how important that need is to her. Crush that, and you will crush her. _

With Jasper's warning echoing in his head, Edward carried Bella back to the bed and set her down. He knelt before her and took her hands in his, kissing her fingertips. She pulled on his hands and moved over, making room for him on the bed.

Bella was wearing pajamas that Alice had recently purchased to give to her under the guise of more hand-me-downs. They were as different from what she normally slept in as night is from day, and Edward suspected that if there had been any other alternative to the pink silk and lace, Bella would've jumped at it.

Seeing her now, he was eminently grateful there had been no other alternative. No need to sleep translated to no need for pajamas.

He knew she didn't care for pink, and although he'd always been partial to blue on her—the purple-blue of the dress she'd worn in the picture she'd sent him in particular—the pale pink of the pajamas was a new favorite. His eyes raked over her. The thin pink silk was as useless in preserving her modesty as the thin white cotton of her camisole had been. A fact of which Alice would have been well aware.

"Lay with me?" she asked.

Edward fought back what would have been a cross between a whimper and a groan at the sight of his mate, sitting on a bed, dressed as she was, and pulling him toward her, but he was helpless to prevent his body reacting to her. He ignored his siblings mental sniggering at him as he took a few seconds to compose himself. He forced himself to sit on the floor beside the bed. It only moved him a few inches farther away from the temptress in pink silk, but mentally it was great help in trying to resist her. It was a step in the right direction, albeit a very small one. "Bella, your father only agreed to allow me to stay in here with you while you slept out of fear for your safety until we know more about Victoria's plan. I highly doubt that permission included sharing your bed."

She leaned down toward him, causing the top of her pajamas to hang and gape and allowing him to see down her shirt. If he'd been human, he suspected he'd be sweating right now. The sight of the little pink crowns of her nipples made his head spin. _The little minx. She knows exactly what she's doing. _

"I don't intend to tell him. Do you?"

Before Edward could make himself move, her fingers were in his hair and her lips were on his. As if they had a mind of their own, his arms wrapped themselves around her and dragged her off the bed and onto the floor with him. The feeling of her skin separated from his hands by only one thin layer of silk was driving him wild. Her nails ran down his back, and she bunched the fabric of his shirt in her hands, pulling it up his back before sliding her hands underneath to drag her nails against his skin.

Her fingers were like fire everywhere she touched him, and he wanted more.

Edward lowered her to the floor and laid over her, his weight supported on his elbows. Bella slid her hands around his sides to his stomach and circled his navel with the tips of her fingers while the other hand traveled up his chest and pinched his nipple. She pulled her mouth away from his neck where she had been kissing him. "Not that I mind the floor, but it seems rather silly when there is a perfectly good bed right there."

The small and rapidly growing smaller part of his brain that was still frantically trying to remind him the yellowing bruises on her shoulders were just as visible through the silk as her nipples were was overwhelmingly overruled. In less than a second, his mate was in his arms and back on the soft bed with him still on top of her.

Immediately, Bella's hands moved to the buttons on his shirt, quickly opening them and sliding the material off his shoulders and down his arms as her mouth refastened to his neck. His hands moved up her sides, and his fingers teased her breasts through the silk. Her head fell back on the pillows, and she arched her back toward him, pushing her breasts into his hands as she moaned his name.

The sound of his name spoken like that went straight to his cock, and whatever limited restraint Edward had still possessed was lost. Her pajama top was trimmed with white lace and came down in a deep V. He grabbed the shirt and tore, relishing the sound it made. It ripped right down the middle, and he lowered his mouth to her chest, relearning every inch, every curve. Bella moaned and writhed beneath him, raking her nails down his back.

The feel of her skin against his was even more perfect than Edward remembered. He'd been away from her for too long, but he was here with her now, and he would never leave again.

He slid up her body to reclaim her mouth. "I love you." His whisper was like a prayer, a vow.

She answered with her love for him as their lips met over and over, and her hands traveled below his waist. She slid her hand around to his stomach, tracing her fingers around his navel, down the fine line of hair that disappeared into his jeans, and lightly running her nail along the edge of the denim. Her other hand had found its way back up into his hair as she kissed and bit below his ear. She blew gently against his skin, wet from her attentions, and Edward's whole body shivered from the feelings she was raising in him and his need for her. "Let me touch you." The whispered breath against his ear came barely a second before his Bella lowered her hand to trace along his erection. It was only with incredible effort that he resisted crying out and bucking his hips against her hand—the warm, soft hand he could so easily crush. His body was paralyzed, trapped between terror and need. "Tell me to stop, and I will," she promised.

Too afraid to move, all he could do was nod his head. That delicate hand traveled up and down his length once, twice. He turned his head to watch her face as she touched him. His mate's eyes followed the movement of her hand. She was biting her lower lip, which was already swollen from their kisses. Her mouth was open slightly, and her eyes were wide with desire. Her porcelain skin was glowing. Her bare chest was rising and falling with each breath.

She was exquisite.

The scent of her arousal wrapped around him as her fingers fondled and gently squeezed him. Even through the layers of his clothing, Edward could feel the warmth of her skin as she touched him. She met his eyes and blushed when she saw him watching her so intently, but she was undaunted and smiled coyly at him, the look incongruous with the actions of her hand. "Do you want me to stop?" She accompanied the question with more deliberate pressure against his cock and cupped his length with her hand.

Licking his lips and unable to string words together Edward frantically shook his head. "No."

Clearly enjoying the power she held over him, Bella's smile widened, and she arched her eyebrow. Her hand continuing to fondle him, traveling lower to caress his balls. He was unable to fully suppress a deep growl as she slid those incredible fingers from one to the other. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that? Did you say something?"

"Don'tstopdon'tstoppleasedon'tstop."

Her teasing smile turned serious for a moment. "Are you sure?" The one sentence he'd spoken—even if it had come out all as one word—was all he could manage, and all Edward could do was meet her eyes and nod in a silent plea.

Holding his eyes with her own, Bella's hands slowly traveled to the button on his jeans, and Edward understood the slowness wasn't to tease him but to give him the chance to change his mind.

There was just enough sense left in his brain to tell him to move his hands away from her, and Edward raised his arms above his head and held onto the headboard. Agonizingly slowly, she undid the button and pulled down the zipper. Once open, she pushed the denim aside, and his fingers dug into the wood as the painful tightness was released.

Bella didn't pull her eyes away from his until the zipper was all the way down, and then they slowly traveled down his body. He was only covered from her eyes by the boxers he wore. Expecting she would continue her ministrations, a shocked gasp escaped him before he could repress it as his Bella lowered her face to his length and ran her tongue along him from base to tip. When her mouth closed over the tip and she sucked it through his boxers, Edward's eyes rolled back into his head, and the wood of the headboard splintered in his hands. The warm wetness of her mouth around him was beyond anything he could ever have imagined, and it took every bit of strength he could summon to keep still.

Her fingers moved to his waist and hooked under both the denim and cotton and began to slide them down his hips. Desperate to not have anything separating him from the heat of her mouth, Edward hurriedly rid himself of both jeans and boxers and threw them across the room before his brain could process the fact that that action would leave him completely naked, completely exposed. He had never been naked in front of anyone before. Never. But now he was, and he found he was scared as hell.

Bella's eyes were wide, staring at him.

What if she didn't like the way he looked? How could she? He was pale and skinny. Not in the way she was pale and thin herself. Her skin was like the finest porcelain; it glowed like the most exquisite pearls; her body slender but still with a perfect shape, a perfect silhouette. But he was pale and thin in a scrawny, sickly way— a "the dead body of a Spanish flu victim" way—and Edward wanted to cover himself, hide himself. He'd hidden himself for the last ninety years, aware that despite the superficial beauty Carlisle's venom had given his face, his body had been beyond full repair. He'd seen through Carlisle's perfect vision how his once strong body had begun to waste away in the months following his father's death only three months before his own. Gone was the athletic build of a fit, healthy seventeen-year-old to be replaced by the weight loss and loss of muscle tone caused first by his mourning for his father and worry over his mother, then by the incredible trauma and stress of those last weeks, and then finally his own illness.

Edward wasn't vain. He knew it wasn't what he looked like that drew Bella to him. But he still wanted to be as attractive to her and she was to him, and he knew he never could be.

Once Bella finally tore her eyes away from Edward's body, she looked him in the eye, but her words of love died before she could speak them. The look on his face overrode everything else. He again looked like that scared child, and it broke her heart. He had seemed so completely lost in what she' d been doing to him only seconds ago, but now he just seemed lost. "Edward, what…."

Before she could finish the question, he reached for the corner of the blanket and covered himself with it, resolutely refusing to meet her eyes.

Bella's worry turned instantly to understanding. Edward was as nervous to be naked in front of her as she had been when she'd first slid the thin straps of her camisole off her shoulders last week. She also realized her silence could easily have been misinterpreted, and she smiled. That was a misunderstanding she could and would remedy.

But there was something she needed to do first.

She took a deep breath and slowly stood up. Her hands were shaking, but it was, after all, only fair that they be on a level playing field. She waited until he looked at her, growing more and more nervous every second she waited. As soon as he finally looked at her questioningly, Bella slid her fingers under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, just as she had done only moments ago with his jeans. Before her nerves got the better of her, she slowly slid both the pajama bottoms and her panties down her hips.

The widening of Edward's eyes and the change in his breathing encouraged her. His mouth opened, and he licked his lips as the silk moved dangerously low. Seeing the change in him, the return of the desire and need he'd been so lost in only moments ago helped to steady her nerves. Bella took one last deep breath, and never taking her eyes off him as he watched her, she slid them past her hips and down her thighs. She kicked them off, climbed back onto the bed, and completely naked, she took her time as she slowly crawled back to him on her hands and knees.

Bella really, really hoped she looked sexy and seductive and not completely ridiculous.

Judging by Edward's rapid breathing and lust-filled eyes, she thought she was probably doing a pretty good job.

She caressed his face and lowering her mouth to his, she whispered against his lips, "I love you. So much. You make me feel so loved, so cherished. You make me so happy." She kissed him tenderly and whispered into his ear as her hands trailed under the blanket and over his chest and lower. "You are… so beautiful. You take my breath away. You leave me speechless." Remembering the words he'd written to her in his last letter, Bella smiled against the skin of his neck as she slipped under the blanket with him. "I love you, Edward. Wholly, truly, and eternally. I remain, as I always have been, yours."

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Well, there you have it. The big discussion scene everyone has been waiting on for so long. I hope it lived up to your expectations!

I'm sorry again for the delay this week and that I wasn't able to get to all the reviews for the last chapter yet. Please know I have read them all and I appreciated them all more than I can say. With the holiday this week, I hope there won't be any more delays next weekend. Happy Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates it, and to those who don't, Happy Thanksgiving anyway! Remember to think of the things your most thankful for this week, and never take them for granted!


	40. Chapter 40

A note about Charlie — I've put Charlie in a bit of a difficult spot, really. As the mate of a vampire himself, he knows it's not a platonic relationship. While no father relishes the idea of their daughter in a physical relationship with a boy, Charlie knows what it's like to have the person who has vowed to love you always to change their mind and walk away from you. He knows that as the mate of a vampire, Bella will never know what that's like. (No _New Moon_ here. Yes, Edward did turn and run, but it wasn't a permanent thing. He was overwhelmed and couldn't accept that Bella knew what he was. He just needed some time.) And of course, with Bella as Edward's mate, Charlie would never lose her again. With all that, he will pretty much be forced to turn a blind eye to some things that with any other boy would have him reaching for his service revolver and chasing the boy down the street.

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I'm sorry for the delay again this week. I'm afraid the next couple weeks might be more of the same. With the holidays, there is just more to do than there are hours in the day to do it all in. I promise I'll get chapters up as quickly as I can, but it might be the new year before I can get back on an every Saturday schedule.

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As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Waking up in the circle of Edward's arms with his naked body pressed against her was, beyond a doubt, the _only_ way to wake up, Bella decided, and she hummed in contentment as she snuggled deeper into his arms. "Hmmmm, morning lover." She smiled and bit her lip as Edward's arms tightened around her possessively. _Lover. _Edward was her lover now. They were lovers.

Well, not exactly absolutely technically, but pretty dang close.

She pressed a kiss against his wrist where she'd found another bite scar last night. After she'd felt it against her lips, she'd gone looking for a matching scar on his other wrist and found it. Altogether, Edward had two scars on his neck, one on each wrist, and one on the inside of each elbow.

Six bites. _Six_.

Bella couldn't help wondering if that was normal and wanted to ask him about it, but she wasn't in any hurry to bring up a topic he likely didn't want to discuss. Besides, there were more important things to talk about.

Her stomach rumbled. More important things, primarily breakfast. Something was baking downstairs, and whatever it was smelled wonderful.

Bella rolled over to face him and breakfast was immediately forgotten. Edward's face was a mask of pain and remorse. Her stomach turned, and her mouth went so dry it was hard to speak. "What happened?"

"Bella… I'm so sorry…." He closed his arms around her and cradled her against him. "I'm so sorry."

Panic threatened to overtake her, and Bella fought to push it back. Last night had been magical. He wasn't sorry about last night, he couldn't be. _Please, God. Don't let him be sorry about last night. _She thought about how Edward had turned away from her last time, but this was different. He wasn't turning away; he was holding her close. His arms had tightened around her until she could barely move.

Bella's eyes opened wide and she tried to push away, but his arms were like a cage around her, preventing her from moving as much as an inch. She struggled, but Edward didn't let loosen his grip, and her fear was growing. "Edward, please." Her voice was clearly afraid, and Edward loosened his grip enough to let her move and look into his face.

Fear had joined the other emotions on his face. "Did I hurt you? Bella, please, tell me the truth—did I hurt you again?"

She shook her head in confusion. Of course he hadn't hurt her. And what did he mean by _again_? When did he think he'd ever hurt her? She asked the question, and he swallowed as his face contorted with pain as he placed his hand on the bruises on her shoulder. The bruises matched his fingers perfectly. He slowly and silently withdrew his hand.

Not knowing what to say, Bella said nothing. The bruises had been a little sore, but not much. Definitely not enough to make a fuss over. So what if he'd gotten… a little over enthusiastic last week? It had been worth a couple bruises. Well worth it. It wasn't like he'd hurt her on purpose or gotten rough with her.

But the bruises weren't important. They were a week old and almost faded away. They weren't what he was so distraught over. "Edward, what happened?" His eyes filled with regret, scaring her. "Vi…" Bella's voice died in her throat, and she swallowed and tried again. "Victoria?"

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. She felt a moment of relief, but the pain on his face only increased. When he opened his eyes he looked into hers, his voice was thick with emotion when he spoke. "Bella, I'm so sorry. There's been an accident."

Completely caught off guard, Bella could only stare at him. She was in bed with her vampire boyfriend, and somewhere out there another vampire was building an army of vampires to attack his vampire family and her werewolf friend and his werewolf pack. Compared to that, the idea of something so mundane, so normal as an _accident_ seemed surreal.

"An accident?"

"Your father got a phone call a few hours ago."

"A phone call?"

All Bella could do was repeat what Edward was saying. Her mind was going through possibilities. Who could've been in an accident that would upset Edward so much? He wasn't close to anyone outside his family. But his pain wasn't for himself—it was for her. One of her friends at school? She tried to think. Had any of her friends had plans last night? No one she could think of.

Edward said, "The state police called. Bella, I'm so sorry. We all are. Alice is beside herself that she didn't see anything, but she doesn't see humans well, and she's been so focused on trying to watch for Victoria, and it wasn't the result of a conscious choice—" Edward had begun rambling, but she stopped him. In his anxiety he had begun talking so fast she'd had trouble keeping up. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, clearly forcing himself to speak slowly. "Your father and Tanya are waiting for us downstairs. The others went out, to give you some privacy, but they're close by." He paused a second, clearly not wanting to tell her what he had to tell her, "Bella…. Love, the state police called your father a few hours ago…."

"You already said that."

He looked directly in her eyes. "The Florida State Police."

Bella lay stock still for thirty seconds before flying out of the bed.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Bella—"

"Where are my clothes?"

She was frantically tearing the room apart, unable to find the clothes she'd taken off last night when she dressed for bed.

"Bella, I'm so sorry."

"No! Don't say it again. Just… don't."

Her throat tightened painfully, and she stumbled and fell. Edward pulled the blanket off the bed and had it and his arms around her before she hit the ground, lowering her gently to the floor.

"Bella—"

"NO!"

She couldn't let him say it. If he said it, it would become real. It couldn't be real. Her eyes filled with tears, and she wiped them away roughly. If she cried, it would be real. She tried to push Edward away and stand up.

"Help me find my clothes. I have to get dressed. I have to go to Florida. I need a plane ticket. I have to go to Florida. She wanted me to come visit her, but I didn't want to go. I was so relieved when Phil got called up because it meant they would be moving, and I wouldn't have to go visit her until later. Oh, God… Why didn't I go see her when I had the chance? I haven't even talked to her for three days, and I wanted to get off the phone when we talked then. She was only worried about my cold… about my shoulder…. She was still upset about the fire. She only wanted to talk to me. I told her I was busy, and I promised I'd call her back. But I didn't… I didn't…. Oh, God… why didn't I call her back? Why didn't I stay on the phone with her longer? Why was I in such a hurry to hang up? Oh, God… Edward…."

It was Bella's turn to ramble, but she ran out of steam, turned back to Edward, and collapsed, sobbing, into his arms.

He carried her back to the bed and rocked her as she cried. He let her cry for several minutes, just rubbing her back and softly singing to her. When her tears finally slowed, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and asked him what, exactly, had happened.

"They'd gone out to dinner. They were driving back home when a truck suddenly crossed into their lane and hit them." He paused to give her a moment to digest it. When she nodded against his chest he continued. "Bella, she didn't suffer. It was instant. She didn't feel a thing. Neither of them did. There was no alcohol involved; there was no speeding involved. The other driver had a heart attack behind the wheel."

Someday it might help ease her mind to know those things, but today was not that day. Her tears came back full force, and she clung to Edward as she cried her heart out.

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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All Edward could do was hold Bella while she cried for her mother. He rocked her. He sang to her. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back. He told her he loved her a hundred times. But he was helpless to truly ease her pain.

While lying next to her and holding her as she'd slept, Edward had been dreading the moment she woke up, and he would have to tell her her mother was dead. His mind had wandered to the day his own father had died. Carlisle had only met his father twice, and those two meetings were the only two memories Edward had of the man. Likewise, his memories of his mother were all through Carlisle's eyes, but they had interacted frequently.

Edward knew he and his father had gone to baseball games together. He knew his family had picnicked together often, whether it had just been the three of them or with his extended family. He knew they'd volunteered at the Red Cross. He knew he would often play for his parents in the evening while they read. He knew he'd had several close friends. He knew all those things. But he didn't actually _remember_ any of them. He had no memories of his own, no recollections of his own thoughts or feelings.

His own parents' deaths had played through his mind a hundred times as he'd laid there next to Bella. His mother's and his grief at his father's death, his mother's desperate plea to Carlisle to save her son, to do what only he could do to save him…. She'd lost her own fight against that horrible flu only an hour later. She'd used up the last of her strength to beg for his life. Had she not been so obstinate about nursing him herself, Carlisle believed she would have recovered. His mother had died because she'd refused to leave his side, to leave his care in the hands of the overworked and exhausted hospital staff and volunteers.

His parents' love for each other and for him, and his love for them, had been obvious. But he had no memories of his own of them, and it was hard to truly mourn people he only knew secondhand, which only added the weight of additional guilt to the burdens he already carried. They were his parents; he should be able to mourn them properly.

Edward sighed helplessly as Bella cried. Her tears were fading again. Her breath was ragged, and she was hiccupping as she sat up and wiped her eyes. The look of heartbreak on her face hurt to see. As she pulled the blanket tighter around herself, she took a deep breath and looked around the room. "I still need my clothes."

Edward smoothed her hair back from her face and off her shoulders. "I'm sure Alice has something in her closet," he said, standing and crossing the room to open Alice's closet. 'Closet' was something of a misnomer, as it was actually larger than the bedroom itself.

Trying to compose herself, Bella took a deep breath before following him.

Edward raised his hand and pointed, explaining, "This is the 'for Bella' section."

Paying no attention to the clothes, Bella grabbed the first thing she laid her hand on.

Alice had even foreseen his own need for clothes, since he was pretty sure that when he'd ripped his jeans off last night, he had_ literally_ ripped them off.

Once Bella pulled a sweater over her head and untucked her hair from under it, Edward took her hand and kissed it. She stopped in front of the door and closed her eyes, her hand pressed flat against the door. "I don't want to go out there."

Standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her, Edward kissed the top of her head. Their meeting with the wolves was in less than two hours, but the wolves would just have to wait. Carlisle needed him at the meeting, but his mate needed him more. The wolves had been told of the accident and Renee's and Phil's deaths; surely they would understand.

Regardless whether they understood or not, his mate would have all the time she needed. "We can wait until you're ready."

Bella turned in his arms and laid her head against his chest, but after only a few seconds she shook her head. "No. Waiting won't change anything." She kissed his chest and spoke into his shirt. "Thank you, though." Her expression and her voice were emotionless. She inhaled deeply and took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Bella, we can wait as long as you need to."

She only shook her head. Her beautiful brown eyes were empty. "The longer we put it off, the harder it will be."

Together they left the room and walked down the stairs. The moment Bella saw her father, she went straight to him. Charlie held his daughter tightly while Tanya stood silently next to them. After a moment Bella pulled away.

Tanya ran her hand down the back of Bella's long brown hair as she spoke. "I made breakfast, sweetheart. Come, have something to eat." The older vampire had truly come to love her and felt very maternal toward her, Edward knew, and her own pain over the loss of her sister was compounded by Bella's loss.

Bella's expression was detached as she shook her head. "I'm really not hungry."

Her father encouraged her to at least try to eat something, and she silently nodded her head in agreement. This emptiness, this hollowness, was harder to see and spoke even more to the intensity of his mate's pain than her tears had. A piece of her that had been there yesterday was simply gone now, and she knew she would never have it back again.

They walked to the kitchen, and Edward took a plate that had been set out for her off the counter, but it fell from his fingers and shattered when he heard Bella's gasp and the return of her tears. The crash startled her, and she cried harder. Her father's arms were around her, but he was at a loss for what to do, how to help her.

Bella's tears escalated until she was gagging and gasping for breath. Her legs gave out from under her and left her father supporting all her weight. Edward could hear his family's thoughts as they listened helplessly from the woods. Alice and Esme were desperate to return to the house and try to comfort Bella, but Jasper insisted they stay where they were, that too many people right now would overwhelm her.

He directed his thoughts to Edward. _Let her cry. Her emotions are all over the place right now. One moment she'll be in tears, the next she'll be silent. You're already doing the only thing you can do. _

Carlisle suggested a mild sedative to help her rest, and Edward passed the suggestion on to Charlie as he guided his daughter into a chair at the kitchen table. But Bella immediately said no, her hollow voice scratchy through her tears. "What good will falling asleep do? It won't change anything." Once her tears quieted again she wiped her red, swollen eyes and looked around at her father, Tanya, and Edward. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart like that… it's just… it's just…."

"Bella, don't apologize." Edward kissed the top of her head, and Bella leaned heavily against him.

She shook her head, determined to speak through the painful tightness in her throat. "It's just…." She nodded her head toward the coffee cake on the table. "My last morning in Phoenix… Mom… she…." Bella smiled sadly at Tanya as her tears returned, but slower, not all consuming as they had been a few moments ago. "You inspired her. She always…." Bella's sad smile tuned to her father. "You know how she always had her hobbies." Bella looked at the table where the apple nut coffee cake with a slice already taken out lay on a simple white cake plate. "She…." Bella continued to smile slightly through her tears at one of her last memories of her mother. "Her latest hobby was baking." Bella paused and wiped her eyes again. A small, sad chuckle escaped her. Her voice was tinged with pride. "She was actually getting pretty good." The hint of a smile fell from her face, and her lips quivered. "She made a coffee cake for breakfast for us that last morning. Apple nut, just like that one."

The words were spoken in a rush as her tears returned full force, as if it was a race to get them out while she still could. She propped her elbows up on the table and dropped her head into her hands as she cried. "Then when you dropped that plate…." Her voice was shaky, but she forced herself to speak. "She dropped a glass." Bella looked at her father again. "The 10th day of Christmas. You remember I told you about the Twelve Days of Christmas glasses? How every year at least one got broken?" Charlie nodded. "The 10th day slipped out of her hand and shattered."

Bella's eyes were distant as she spoke, remembering. Her posture slumped as she breathed deeply. "When the plate broke…. It was like it was happening all over again. And I just… lost it."

All four were still for a few moments before Tanya moved to take the cake away. "I'll get you something else, honey. What would you like?"

Bella said no. She wanted the cake.

Edward exchanged a glance with Charlie and Tanya before stepping away to get another plate. Tanya got a cup of coffee for her, and Edward, remembering something Bella had once told him, took a chocolate bar from the pantry they maintained for appearance's sake, broke a piece off, and kneeling next to her, dropped it in her cup. "Just something someone once suggested to me."

Bella leaned her forehead against his. "You told me I was a coffee genius."

They stayed like that for a moment before Bella realized her father was the only one who didn't know the whole history of her and Edward's relationship. She didn't want any secrets anymore. Not within her family. They were separated from the world around them by the secrets they had to keep, the lies they had to tell. Her family—her father, Edward, Tanya, all the Cullens—were her world now, and she didn't want there to be any secrets within that world.

Once they'd filled him in—both taking their turn, picking up from the other, finishing the other's sentences, explaining what they'd experienced, what they'd shared—Charlie was understandably speechless. Finally, he ran his hand over his face and looked between his daughter and Edward in amazement; the limited thoughts Edward could hear from the man were that that certainly explained her insistence on bringing that old desk with her. It explained everything.

They were all quiet for several seconds before Bella spoke. Her voice, while nowhere near normal, was stronger than it had been earlier and held a sense of purpose. "What do I do now? I mean… what do… how do…."

Her voice broke, but her tears didn't return. She hesitated before continued, her eyes staring ahead blindly before dropping to the table. "They're all alone out there. How do I bring them home? Where do I bring them home _to_?"

The pain on that beautiful face broke Edward's heart. Charlie spoke softly. "I spoke to Phil's brother, Bells. They're still in shock, but they'd like to have them both buried near them. If that's OK with you."

Bella silently nodded her head. It was some time before she spoke again. "Phil's family's great. Mom'll be…. Mom'd be…. She'd…." She dropped her face into her hands, unable to go on. Scrubbing her hands over her face she continued. "Mom'd want to be with him. There's nothing left to take her back to Phoenix for anyway."

"His team manager called, too. They all expressed their condolences. Some of Phil's teammates and their wives volunteered to pack up their things. Whatever you and Phil's family decide, the team's management offered to make the necessary arrangements locally."

Bella took a deep breath. "The house was rented, I know. The furniture…" she shook her head brokenly before looking around the kitchen without seeming to see it, "just give it away." She twisted her fingers together and looked down at her lap. "Maybe a homeless shelter or something could use it. None of it means anything."

Edward could hear Jasper's thoughts in his mind reminding him that their meeting with the wolves was in an hour, and unless he wanted Carlisle to call and postpone it, they had to leave very soon if Bella and Charlie were going with them.

The last thing in the world Edward wanted right now was to have to deal with a bunch of adolescent mutts, but when he told the others that Carlisle would call the wolves to tell them they needed more time, Bella emphatically said no.

"Bella, I'm sure they'll understand." In reality, Edward couldn't have cared less whether the dogs understood. They would just have to wait. It was vital that he be there so they would know if the wolves were not fully honest with them or if they were holding anything back, but Bella was clearly not up to what would, in the best case scenario, be a very tense and stressful meeting, and no way in hell was he leaving her side.

"No. This is too important," Bella insisted. Edward tried to interrupt her, but she continued. "This Victoria isn't going to stop, Edward. She isn't going to wait 'til it's convenient for us. She's out there right now, preparing. We have no idea what she's doing or when she intends to attack." Her eyes filled with tears again, but even through her tears, his Bella's voice continued to grow stronger as she reached for Tanya's hand. "My mom…. There's nothing I can do. We need to be ready to meet whatever this Victoria is planning. I know I never met Irina or Laurent, but I _will not_ lose another member of my family."

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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..

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"They'll be here in just a few minutes."

Bella stood next to Edward, holding his hand. She inhaled, stood straight, and squared her shoulders as she nodded her head and slowly exhaled a shaky breath, trying to push everything else aside. Jacob hadn't returned any of her phone calls since February, and she'd finally given up. He'd been one of her first friends. She'd at least wanted to be able to say good-bye.

Their group of thirteen was arranged in a triangle with Carlisle at the point. Jasper and Emmett stood behind him with Alice, Esme, and Rosalie a few feet behind their mates. The last row had Carmen and Eleazar—Tanya's family from Alaska, whom Bella had met only moments before they left the Cullens' house for this meeting—at either end. Edward stood next to her, Tanya stood next to her father, with Kate, Tanya's sister—whom Bella had also met for the first time today—in the middle.

Edward ran his fingers along her jaw, and she looked up at him. "I wish you would reconsider, Bella. This could go badly. I would feel so much better if you would wait in the car."

She took his hand and pressed a kiss to his fingertips before silently returning her gaze to the trees he'd indicated a moment ago. Edward sighed in defeat.

After two very tense, silent minutes Sam Uley emerged from the trees, barefoot and attired only in their traditional cut-offs. Jacob appeared a few steps behind him to his right, likewise dressed. Both stopped only a few feet in front of the trees.

Sam addressed Carlisle; his tone held forced politeness, but the tension he felt and the strain he was under were audible. He clearly wanted to be anywhere but here. "We're here, Cullen."

Carlisle attempted diplomacy and thanked them for agreeing to meet to discuss the mutual threat both sides faced, but Sam cut through the attempt. "We're not here for pleasantries, Cullen. Neither of us wants to be here any longer than necessary. Just tell us what you know about the red head."

Carlisle motioned with his hand, and Jasper was at his side so fast he blurred as he moved. "This is my son, Jasper. He has the most experience with what we're facing. With your permission, he will explain."

Bella's throat tightened painfully, and her eyes fell to the ground as Jacob snorted loudly in derision at Carlisle's use of the word 'son.'

Without moving his eyes from Carlisle, Sam raised a hand toward Jacob, and he fell silent.

Jasper began, "We know no more about Victoria than what you have already been told."

Jacob began to speak, but again, he was silenced wordlessly by Sam.

With his back perfectly straight and his hands clasped behind him, seemingly unfazed by Jacob's momentary interruption, Jasper spoke. "We don't know when she intends to attack. We don't know how many she has currently, or how many she will have by the time she does attack. Her current numbers could go up or down."

"Why would they go down?"

Jasper dipped his head in acknowledgement of the question. "The army Victoria is forming consists of newborns—vampires within roughly their first year. Vampires that young are notoriously difficult to control, particularly in such large groups. They will behave very much like young, undisciplined children. They will have very little, if any, self-control. They will be ruled primarily by their instincts with very little ability to think logically or rationalize. They will be prone to fighting amongst themselves, and those fights are often deadly."

Sam and Jacob were too far away for Bella to be able to make out their facial features clearly, but their body language relaxed noticeably.

"Don't underestimate them, however," Jasper continued. "They will be considerably stronger than a mature vampire, as their own human blood lingers in them. Their strength will be a distinct factor in their favor."

Sam and Jacob shared a glance before Sam asked Jasper to continue.

"As I said, they will have the advantage of their strength. However, they will have very little skill. Very little, if any, training or technique. That will be where our joint advantage lies. I have considerable experience in dealing with newborns of which Victoria is unaware."

Jacob crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Get a lot of Father's Day cards do you?"

Jasper very slowly turned his head, giving his attention to Jacob for the first time. "I know how to fight them and how to defeat them. It is that experience we requested this meeting to share with you." His voice was full of quiet, confident, intimidating authority.

Jasper looked to Carlisle, who nodded his head nearly imperceptibly, and Jasper turned his attention back to Sam. "An additional advantage is that we have no reason to believe she has any idea your numbers have increased. She knows how many she faces in our case, but not in yours."

Jasper's statement clearly rattled both Sam and Jacob. "What makes you believe our numbers have increased?" Sam asked.

Jasper turned toward Edward. No words were spoken between the brothers, but Edward seemed to understand what Jasper wanted. Bella thought to herself that they must have planned while she slept, speaking too quietly to disturb her.

Edward addressed the Quileutes for the first time but didn't move from her side. "Your numbers currently stand at ten; however, you are expecting another before the end of summer, Clinton Penn."

Even Bella could plainly see that both Sam and Jacob were surprised and disturbed that the Cullens knew more about the pack than they had realized.

Carlisle spoke next, his tone was diplomatic, sympathetic. "We hope this matter will be resolved before then. We don't want the boy involved any more than you do."

Jasper stepped forward. "While we don't know when she intends to attack, we believe it will be sooner rather than later. Newborns are volatile and difficult to deal with, and by their very nature Victoria will be limited as to time. The longer she waits, the more she loses the advantage of their strength, and the more she risks losing numbers. She won't want to risk either. I expect she will have at least as many as she expects to encounter. She may have also taken into account the likelihood of losses before she plans to attack and made, for lack of a better term, spares. However, the more she makes, the more she risks detection. I would expect her to have a minimum of seventeen, but no more than twenty or twenty one. It has been a year since her mate was killed. We have to presume she began creating her army shortly afterward. The creation of armies of expendable newborns to destroy an enemy is not a new one in our history. Furthermore, it would take a considerable amount of time to build an army of that size and avoid detection. Her turning to her former covenmate also indicates a probability that her attack is imminent. He traveled with them for several decades, and as such, it is probable she expected him to be a willing participant in her plan for revenge, against the wolves at least. It is likely she planned to keep from him her intention to attack us as well in light of his being mated into our family."

Jasper's posture never relaxed as he addressed the Quileutes. His back remained perfectly ramrod straight, shoulders back, hands clasped firmly behind him. He looked like a military officer inspecting and commanding his troops before battle.

Bella turned to glance at Tanya, but she was staring straight ahead, eyes unblinking and firmly fixed on Jasper. No trace of the pain Bella knew Jasper's reference to Victoria's attack on her sister and her mate would cause was visible on her face. She was, at that moment, not a grieving sister but a soldier being prepped and trained for battle. As they all were, Tanya was being prepared to fight for her life, for the lives of those she loved. Bella's eyes rose to Edward's face. The only indication he was a man and not a statue was the minute movement of his jaw as he ground his teeth.

Edward was again facing a threat, and again she was helpless to protect him from it. She pressed her forehead against his arm and sighed. There had to be something she could do, some way she could help.

Edward's arm wrapped around her, and he drew her close against him. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I love you."

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you, too."

"Your friend is not happy," he said, and she felt his cool breath through her hair.

Bella looked back up at Sam and Jacob. By the look of his body language, Jacob was glaring daggers at them. It hurt to see, and she dropped her eyes to the ground but didn't lower her arms. Her choice had been made—not that there had ever truly been a choice—and to pretend otherwise would be pointless.

Jasper called Emmett forward, and together they demonstrated both the most efficient way to fight the newborns and the mistakes that would get you killed.

One by one Jasper called people forward as he demonstrated techniques highlighting each family member's individual strengths. The main points he continued to make over and over were to not attack head on, but to come at them from the side or from behind, and to keep moving, to never give them the chance to get their arms around you. With their strength, they would crush anyone they could get their arms around.

Bella's arms tightened around Edward's waist reflexively until Jasper called him forward. Every fiber in her body wanted to hold on to him, to not let him leave her side. Edward ran his fingers down the side of her face. "Jaz, Emmett, and I have been fighting for decades, love. They've never beaten me yet." He kissed her forehead and smirked at his brothers, like he was responding to comments Bella hadn't heard.

Jasper taunted, "Come on, lover boy. Don't worry, Bella. I promise not to hurt him too badly."

Edward and Jasper stood opposite each other for barely a second; then, just like with the others, each moved faster than she could follow. Jasper was a blur, but Edward seemed to simply disappear and reappear somewhere else instantly. Bella was grateful she wasn't able to follow their movements; the sound of boulders repeatedly crashing together was bad enough.

All movement abruptly stopped when Edward appeared behind his brother, one arm around his chest, his other hand against his forehead pulling his head back, and his open mouth poised inches from Jasper's neck. Edward playfully shoved his brother. "Gotcha again."

He resumed his place at Bella's side, grinning as if he'd just knocked in the winning run.

With the training portion of the meeting completed, the discussion returned to how soon Victoria might be likely to attack. Neither side was willing to sit back and wait. Neither side wanted her coming anywhere near Forks or La Push.

Carlisle hesitated, trying to select his words carefully, but there was no gentle way of saying it. He explained as tactfully as possible that newborn vampires needed to hunt more frequently than mature ones, and such a large group of newborns could be located if you were aware of their existence and knew the signs to look for, but it would take time.

Sam and Jacob were too overcome to speak for some time. Revulsion. Fury. A need for vengeance. Both seemed to physically tremble with rage. After several minutes Sam spat out, "So we just look for signs of a mass murderer on the loose?"

Carlisle's voice was filled with remorse, but he remained calm. "I'm sorry to say it, but essentially, yes. However, it will not be obvious. Discretion will be vital to her plan. She needs to remain undetected until she is ready to make her move. There will be disappearances, mostly among those least likely to be noticed or missed. The homeless. Drug addicts and dealers. Prostitutes and pimps. And the disappearances will be spread out over a wide range to minimize the likelihood of detection, but as Jasper has said, it will be exceedingly difficult for her to maintain control over a large group such as we believe she will have. There will be more noticeable victims as well—joggers, cyclists, hikers and campers, anyone found at the wrong time in an isolated area—but again, over a widespread area."

Carlisle turned and nodded to Charlie. "Charlie has already begun monitoring for exactly the circumstances I have just described. His position as Chief of Police gives him the perfect resources."

Sam turned wearily to Charlie. It was obvious to everyone the nearly impossible situation the young man found himself in. He was the leader of what Edward had told her was by far the largest pack the tribe had ever seen. As such, he was considered above even the tribal elders and considered by their entire tribe as being responsible for their safety. Now, in order to protect his people, he was having to take direction from those he considered his mortal enemy to do something that went against his very being. He was being told he had to sit back and wait for an army of vampires to kill enough humans for them to be able to track them. When he spoke it was with the tired voice of a man several times his age of only twenty years. "Charlie?"

Bella watched her father quietly shake his head. "I've only just begun making calls and searching missing persons reports. It's just too soon to find a pattern."

Jacob stepped forward. "We can't just sit and wait. We have to do something. There has to be something we can do."

It took time and very tense negotiations, but eventually a plan was worked out to continue meeting to train to fight as one united force and to create a sort of command central at the Swans' house to track missing person reports and unsolved murders.

Jacob requested the Cullens' to provide the pack with items of clothing to familiarize themselves with their scents. Bella immediately volunteered herself to deliver the clothes.

Edward was less than thrilled with the idea of Bella going onto the reservation unprotected and spent the half-hour drive back to Forks in growing desperation trying to dissuade her. Even after they'd arrived home, he continued to beg her. "Bella, please. The wolves are unstable at the best of times, but now they are under tremendous stress. The slightest provocation…." Edward ran his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. They were in her bedroom, and he sat down at their desk. "There wouldn't even have to be any provocation. Just the thought of you and I together…. You don't know what Jacob was thinking. The thought of you and I together has been… gnawing at him since February. He detests me by nature, but that hatred has been growing in him for months. It was difficult enough for him when he thought I was deceiving you, lying to you, but now that he knows that you know the truth, it's unbearable to him. He finds it incomprehensible that you would willingly choose me."

Edward couldn't blame Jacob for that. He, himself, still could not believe that Bella chose to be with him knowing what he was and what he had done.

Bella was staring into her closet trying to choose which clothes to pack. He dropped his head into his hands. His poor mate. She was dealing with having to bury her mother and step-father and an insane, vindictive vampire out to kill them all, and now a jealous adolescent mutt on top of everything else.

He was supposed to protect his mate. He was just doing a bang up job of that, wasn't he?

He heard her sigh, and she crossed the room to him. Bella knelt in front of him and pulled his hands away from his face. "Jacob will just have to make himself believe it. He'll just have to deal with it. They'll all just have to deal with it. I love you. He may have had a …." She shrugged her shoulders and blushed. "He may have had a little crush on me, but it wasn't a big deal."

Bella tried to smile up at him, but the smile didn't even come close to approaching her eyes, "And you can't possibly know what he was thinking. What? Are you a mind reader or something?"

Edward couldn't answer. He just sat there staring stupidly at her.

"Edward?" Bella was still holding his hands but as the seconds ticket her eyes widened with shock, and she fell from her knees to sit on the floor in front of him. "You can…. You can _read minds_!?"

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**WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend _I remain, Yours_ on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for _I remain, Yours_ for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it. **

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**Please vote for I remain, Yours!**

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Killing off Renee and Phil was not an arbitrary decision; I did it for a reason. I wanted both Edward and Bella to have to walk in each other's shoes, so to speak. Bella had to give Edward the horrific news about the approaching epidemic, and Edward lost his father unexpectedly. Basically, I wanted to flip that around. I really wanted one to have to go through something the other had gone through. Also, I tried to write throughout the story that Bella was worried for her father with his job as a cop, and she worried for Edward both with the epidemic and now with Victoria, but she's never really worried about her mother. Not because she didn't love her, I think Bella loves her mother very much, but the idea that something could happen to her mother just never really occurred to her. Her father has a dangerous job, and Edward was facing the threat of one of the worst—if not the worst—epidemic in known history, and now there's Victoria, but her mother was… outside Bella's radar of danger, so to speak. She was in a safe place. Even when Bella was with Alice when Alice had her vision about Victoria, Bella thinks about something happening to her father, but she never thinks that something may have happened to her mother. Her mother, in Bella's mind—at least, in my idea of Bella's mind—was safe. She never thought about something happening to her mother. But accidents can and do happen unexpectedly, and very often they happen at the worst possible time, like now with the threat of Victoria.

I wrote this chapter a year ago this past summer, during the summer of 2011. It was right during the Little League World Series, which is played in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, a couple hours away from where I live. The team representing the Mid-Atlantic region of the U.S. was from Clinton County, Pennsylvania, also only a couple hours away from where I live. The Quileute boy they are expecting to join the pack by the end of summer, Clinton Penn, was named in tribute to the team from Clinton County. Even if they didn't win it, it was a thrill to watch them play.

Again, I'm so sorry for the delay. I'm off to submit the teaser for chapter 41 to Twi Fic Central right now. They don't post teasers till Wednesday, so I should make the cut off.


	41. Chapter 41

**I'M SO EXCITED, I'M PRACTICALLY JUMPING UP AND DOWN IN MY SEAT!**

Several months ago, one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to write a recommendation review for _I remain, Yours_ for **ROB ATTACK**.

A couple days ago I found out that now that we are at the end of another year, they are conducting a poll to find the favorite Complete, WIP, and One Shot fics recommended during 2012 and that

_I remain, Yours_ is listed on the **BEST REC'D WIP OF 2012** poll!

Now, I've also just found out that I've been nominated for

**BEST BREAKTHROUGH AUTHOR** on the first annual **FANDOM CHOICE AWARDS**!

Now, since I am not above begging for votes, I am doing just that and begging for votes!

Please! Please! Please! Check out the Rob Attack and Fandom Choice Awards websites

and vote for _I remain, Yours_!

FFn does not allow links to be posted—they delete them automatically—but if you google

Rob Attack Best Rec'd on FanFiction Fridays 2012

and

Fandom Choice Awards

you will be able to find the polls to vote.

If you have trouble, the full links can also be found on The Writer's Coffee Shop at the beginning of chapter 41, and also on Twilighted at the beginning of chapter 41 just as soon as the chapter gets through their validation queue.

Voting will go on for about two more weeks on Rob Attack, and the winners will be announced on December 28th.

Voting will go on through January 3rd on The Fandom Choice Awards and the winners will be posted during The People's Choice Awards on January 9th.

**PLEASE VOTE!**

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I'm sorry for the delay again this week. I'm afraid the next couple weeks might be more of the same. With the holidays, there is just more to do than there are hours in the day to do it all in. I promise I'll get chapters up as quickly as I can, but it might be the new year before I can get back on an every Saturday schedule.

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As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_He heard her sigh, and she crossed the room to him. Bella knelt in front of him and pulled his hands away from his face. "Jacob will just have to make himself believe it. He'll just have to deal with it. They'll all just have to deal with it. I love you. He may have had a …." She shrugged her shoulders and blushed. "He may have had a little crush on me, but it wasn't a big deal." _

_Bella tried to smile up at him, but the smile didn't even come close to approaching her eyes, "And you can't possibly know what he was thinking. What? Are you a mind reader or something?" _

_Edward couldn't answer. He just sat there staring stupidly at her. _

"_Edward?" Bella was still holding his hands but as the seconds ticket her eyes widened with shock, and she fell from her knees to sit on the floor in front of him. "You can…. You can _read minds_!?"_

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"Bella, please—"

"You can read minds!" Bella had been storming back and forth across her room for the past ten minutes repeating those four words furiously every time Edward tried to talk to her. Downstairs Tanya's thoughts were filled with sympathy. Charlie's were, as usual, too disjointed to be fully comprehensible to him.

"It's not… Bella, please. Let me explain."

"You can read minds!"

"I—"

"You! Can! Read! Minds!"

Edward cringed and begged her to listen to him, but she rounded on him, each word shouted and punctuated by a punch of her tiny fist against his arm. If he didn't stop her, she could end up breaking her hand. Edward grabbed her wrists, being careful—always careful—to not accidentally hurt her. "Please, if you would just let me explain."

"Explain what!? You can! Read! Minds! What else is there to explain? It's pretty self-explanatory! Oh my GOD, Edward! How could you not have told me that!?"

Bella pulled her arms away from him and turned her back to him. Edward felt his heart shatter in his chest. This was it. He'd been so afraid of this moment, and now it was here. Bella'd reached her limit. He couldn't believe this was happening. This _couldn't _be happening. Not now, not over this. Finding out he was a vampire, a murderer, that she'd inexplicably forgiven him for.

But now….

He couldn't lose her. Not over _this_, of all things. Not now that he knew what complete happiness was, not now that he knew what her body felt like against his. He couldn't stand aside and let her walk away from him.

If she told him she didn't love him… didn't want him…. If she told him she loved someone else…. As much as it would rip out the very soul he was only just now daring to believe he still had, he would stand aside. He'd cease to exist without her by his side, but her happiness meant more to him than anything else in the world. If she would be happier without him, happier with someone else, he wouldn't stand in her way. But _this_? He couldn't lose her over this. If necessary, he'd fall to his knees and beg her to not leave him. He'd do anything she asked. _Just, God, please don't let her leave me over this. Please. _

Bella's body was rigid with anger. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides. He'd seen her this angry once before, in Fido's memories of their confrontation last Easter—except then her anger had been in his defense. Now it was directed at him.

Edward dropped his head in despair. He'd ruined everything, and he had no idea how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. "Bella, _please…. _Don't leave me."

"Don't _leave _you?" Bella spun around both at his words and the sound of his voice.

Before she could say another word, Edward was on his knees in front of her, looking up at her, her hands in his. "Please… _Bella, please_…. I'm sorry. _I'm sorr_y. Please don't leave me. _Please_."

"_Leave_ you? Oh, Edward." Bella dropped to her knees in front of him and took his face in her hands. She kissed him gently on the lips and whispered, "I will never leave you. Never. I'm afraid you're stuck with me." She stood back up and crossed her arms. "But you are so not off the hook. _How_ could you not tell me something like that?"

She sat on the floor, leaning against her dresser, and covered her face with her hands before rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. "Oh, God. I am so embarrassed. God, what must you have _thought_ of me? When I remember the things I thought when we first met…. God, I was no better than Jessica. I'm so embarrassed."

She returned to pacing her room, but the tension was gone from her shoulders. Her face was so red from her blush he could smell the blood. It was intoxicating. Even at a distance of a few feet, he could almost feel her pulse in his own body.

Edward stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, running his hands up and down her arms, just feeling her there, still there. "Don't think that that will save you, Aggie. I'm still mad at you." In contrast to her words, she turned to him and stepped into his arms. The feel of her, so soft, so warm, so _real_, so just _still there_, made him dizzy.

After only a moment, she took a step back and looked up at him, her forehead scrunched up. Edward thought she was the most precious sight in the world.

"But…. Wait. I don't understand, then why were you so worried that day? At the movies."

"Hmmmm?" For over ninety years Edward's life had been day after day of nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope for, nothing special, and he had abandoned all hope of that ever changing decades ago. All the things that had once provided a respite, however brief, to the never ending monotony that was his existence had, one by one, lost their ability to divert his mind. Learning, reading, traveling, and even finally his music had ceased to interest him. How long had it been since he'd composed anything before meeting Bella? The only solace he'd had left to him was his family, and even there he was perpetually the odd man out, the third wheel. Or in his case, the seventh wheel.

All he had been able to see stretched out in front of him for only God knew how long was day after endless day of mind-numbing boredom. Then, it had come time for them to move yet again, and he'd found himself once again back in Forks. From the moment he'd first met Charlie Swan, and his soul had recognized the man from the photo Bella had sent him, had recognized his mate's father, his life had never again been the same.

From that moment on, the very ground had disappeared from beneath him, and he had been in a free-fall without having any idea when or where, or even if, he would ever land again. The soul he had believed lost forever had latched onto the physical reminder of his Bella and had refused to let go, had nearly driven him mad with its need for him to find her again. His mind had forgotten her along with everything else, but his soul, his heart, never had.

Her breakdown last summer—caused by her belief that he had died in that horrific epidemic—

and his overpowering need to help her…. Carlisle's realization that the girl he suspected he had loved in 1918 and the girl he felt compelled to help in 2009 were one and the same…. Finding the confirmation of that in finding her letters and pictures…. Finding her only to believe he had no choice but to let her go…. Learning she had decided to move to Forks, as if she was as drawn to him as he was to her.… Learning of Fido's desire to win her affection… . Meeting her…. Getting to know her again…. Falling in love with her again….

No, his life certainly wasn't the endless parade of absolutely nothing it had once been. But after the events of the past months, the past week in particular—the fire, realizing Bella knew what he was, learning of Irina's and Laurent's deaths and the threat they faced from Victoria, learning of her mother's and stepfather's deaths, and now knowing the bone-crushing terror he'd felt when he feared she might leave him, followed by the sheer euphoria of knowing that she still loved him, still wanted him—Edward was so emotionally overwrought and overwhelmed he couldn't help but wish for a little of the quiet he once dreaded back.

Didn't they always say to be careful what you wished for? How many times had he wished for something, _anything_, to happen?

He ran his fingers through his Bella's hair, feeling the long strands slide against his skin, and kissed along her forehead, inhaling her unique scent deeply. Now all he wished for was to be able to take her away with him. Ten or twenty years alone on a quiet island somewhere with her seemed ideal. Yes, ten or twenty years alone with her would be good. For a start anyway.

Bella took another step back and looked at him skeptically. "You should've known what I was so afraid of, known that I already knew what you were. And that night at your house, after we…" Her blush deepened and her scent intensified. She looked away for a moment and cleared her throat before continuing, "…you know." Edward resisted the urge to laugh out loud. His mate could be so… enthusiastic at the time, so aggressive, but she blushed like mad to talk about it afterward.

Her warm, rich scent combined with the overwhelming relief of knowing she wasn't leaving him made his head swim and his legs weak.

"You were afraid I was going to be angry with you. Why? You should've known I wasn't." She tilted her head to the side. "What am I thinking right now?" she asked.

Read her mind? Right now, with the events of the past week catching up to him like a solid punch in the solar plexus, Edward was only just barely keeping his own thoughts straight, forget about anyone else's. "I haven't a clue." He pulled her against him and kissed her, as always having to fight his desire to deepen the kiss. Since that first time she'd kissed him, sitting together at his piano, and had brought him to life for the first time in so very long, the feel of her lips against his never ceased to drive all worry, all sense from his mind.

"You are the world's worst mind reader," she said.

"I will have you know, Miss Swan, I can read the mind of every person—human, vampire, or mongrel—that I have met for the last ninety one years."

Bella's eyes widened with shock, and she gasped, "You can?"

"All save two. First your father, then you."

She stared at him, her eyes still wide, and repeated, "You can?"

Edward lifted her into his arms and sat on her bed with his back against the wall, settling her onto his lap. She offered no resistance. Shock still covered her face, but there was no anger there. If Edward had had to describe how she looked at that moment, he would have to say intensely curious.

"My dad and I are the only two people you can't… what? Read? Hear?"

"It can be maddening, let me tell you." He ran the backs of his fingers along the side of her face. "The only person I've ever truly wanted to know what they were thinking, and you are completely silent to me. Nothing at all. Your father… Charlie is different." Edward went on to explain how he could hear just enough from Charlie to not have noticed he wasn't hearing everything, just enough to not attract his attention while still keeping his most private thoughts private.

"I'm glad you can't hear me," she said.

He kissed the tip of her nose, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I, too. No one else's thoughts mean to me what yours do, but I want to know them because you choose to share them with me, not because I can hear them against your will."

Bella snuggled into his arms.

Remembering something she said earlier, Edward asked, "Now I am curious though."

"About what?"

"You said something about remembering what you thought when we first met. I'm just wondering what that was that would embarrass you so much."

"Ugh…." Bella buried her face in his chest. "Didn't I already tell you once that it's very ungentlemanly to tease a girl? Whatever happened to your Victorian manners?"

"Forgot 'em. And technically, Edwardian would be more accurate, not Victorian. Besides, weren't you the one who told me it's the 21st century and welcomed me to it?"

Bella sighed and said, "I thought you could be an angel."

She saw his face fall, his eyes dim, and it was some time before he answered, "I'm no angel, Bella. Far from it."

Bella debated with herself. There were things she knew they had to discuss that would be difficult, but ignoring them wouldn't make them go away. She didn't know if now was the right time, with everything else they were facing, but waiting wouldn't make it any easier.

And if she was totally honest with herself, anything—no matter how difficult—was preferable to thinking about the loss of her mother.

"Edward?" His arms were wrapped around her, and she felt his whole body stiffen as if he knew what she was going to ask before she asked it. "You said you couldn't read my mind."

"I can't," he paused and inhaled deeply, "but I'm afraid of what I have a feeling you're going to ask."

"If you don't want to talk about it…."

"No. No, you have a right to know. You want to ask me about all the people I've killed. I'm a murderer, Bella. A cold blooded—" Edward snorted and shook his head. "Actually, no, I'm not cold blooded. I'm not any kind of blooded. But I am a serial killer. I chose my prey carefully, stalked them, and killed them. All 381 of them."

Edward's voice was devoid of all emotion as he spoke, but beyond the emptiness, Bella could hear the heavy burden of his guilt weighing on his conscience in his words. She needed time to compose her thoughts. She needed time to choose the right words.

Actually, she needed time to remember how to breathe.

She already knew this, but hearing him say it so bluntly knocked the wind out of her. Maybe she'd been wrong, maybe as bad as it hurt to think about her mother, maybe this was worse.

But there was no turning back now.

He continued, "We have perfect memories. Absolutely perfect. I remember every single second since I woke up to this existence with perfect clarity, in perfect detail. I remember every last one of my victims perfectly." Edward continued his confession in a hollow, monotone voice. "I remember their faces, their scent. I remember what they wore. I remember their last words, their last thoughts. I remember their shock, their terror, their pleas. But their pleas fell on deaf ears. I killed each of them as if I had some supreme right, some divine purpose. I convinced myself that since I could hear the thoughts of everyone around me, I could easily separate the good from the bad, and only hunt the worst of the worst. I rebelled against Carlisle. I resented his refusal to allow us to have what was ours for the taking. I convinced myself I could have what I so desperately craved without becoming the monster he so feared. I convinced myself that if I killed a man before he could kill someone else, I was actually doing good. I wasn't killing a human being, I was saving a murderer's victim. I convinced myself that if I limited myself to criminals… to murderers, rapists, pedophiles… that it somehow didn't count. Pimps… crooked cops… corrupt judges… abusive husbands…. There was never a shortage of potential prey. Never."

"But you stopped."

Staring straight ahead Edward nodded his head. His eyes looked haunted. "Without fail, every one of them begged for their life in the end. Every single one of them. A rapist who enjoyed every second of selecting and stalking his own prey before striking, who relished the terror in his victims, reveled in their screams for mercy…. A violent, abusive, pathetic man who got off on how powerful beating on his wife and children made him feel…. Corrupt judges who abused their power, taking bribes from crooked attorneys to make sure a case went in favor of their client…. They cried like babies when they became the prey, the powerless. They offered me money. More than once I was offered the man's wife or his daughter… _to enjoy_." He laughed humorlessly. "Once, a man offered me his son. The boy was no more than seven. It wasn't the first time he'd offered the child to someone."

Bella shuddered in revulsion.

"If you never want to see me again—"

She cut him off forcefully. "I already told you, you're stuck with me."

He looked at her, wonder mixing with the remorse in his eyes. "How can you even stand to look at me?"

Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she forced them back. Her voice was heavy with emotion. "I already told you that, too. I can't stand to look away."

He trailed his fingers along her jaw, a look of pure awe on his face. "I'm a monster, Bella. I will never deserve you. Never. But I promise you, I will spend the rest of my existence striving to anyway."

"Oh, Edward. You stopped. _You stopped_."

Edward's eyes were unfocused, seeing something that wasn't there, ghosts that existed only in his mind. "I thought… since the victims I hunted would have been convicted of their crimes if the evidence I knew to be true was publicly known… I thought I wouldn't feel guilt… I wouldn't feel remorse for my actions. They were criminals, and I was their judge, jury, and executioner. I convinced myself I was no more guilty of murder than a police officer investigating a crime who gathers evidence used at trial to convict the guilty party…. or the attorney who argued the case, or the judge who presided over it, or jury who decided it."

Edward shook himself. "I'm sorry, Bella. Forgive me. I should not have burdened you with all that, especially not considering everything else you are already having to deal with."

"Don't apologize, Edward. You used to do that in your letters too. I love you. I want you to share things with me." She put her hand on top of his and linked their fingers together. Raising their joined hands, she kissed the inside of his wrist, directly over his scar. "There is nothing you can't share with me. You don't ever have to face anything alone again. Neither of us do."

Bella settled against Edward's chest and they sat together quietly until reality barged in on them again. Edward sighed and kissed her forehead softly. "Alice is coming."

Bella looked up at him questioningly, worry growing in those stunning brown eyes. His poor mate. She was so very strong, but she was having to deal with so much. "What happened?" He shook his head, wishing he could make this easier for her, but he didn't even have the benefit of remembering his own father's funeral except for the short while when Carlisle had come to pay his respects. "Victoria? Has Alice seen something?"

"No, no. No, love. Please don't concern yourself with her. She won't get anywhere near you or Forks. We won't let her."

"I'm not worried about myself, Edward." Bella was frustrated, and her eyes threatened to fill with tears again. If Alice wasn't coming to her house because of something to do with Victoria, she was coming for something else.

"Bella, Phil's brother finalized the plans with the funeral parlor—pending your agreement. Alice made our flight arrangements and booked a hotel." Tears were fighting their way forward and began to spill down his mate's face. "She's coming to offer to help you pack."

Bella was lost to her tears, and Edward wrapped her in his arms and hummed the lullaby he'd composed for her. He asked, "Why don't you let Alice handle the packing? Tanya has a pot of soup on downstairs for you and Charlie. Come downstairs and eat."

Bella shook her head, her eyes, like Edward's had been a few moments ago, staring blindly across the room.

"Love, you need to eat. You need to keep up your strength."

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Bella stood up and went back to her closet. "I will. I promise. But I need to do something. I can't just sit. I know it sounds silly, but I need to keep busy."

Remembering the day he carried her unconscious out of the woods, Edward understood the feeling perfectly. "I understand. Believe me, I understand."

She looked back at him and managed a small, empty smile. "It smells really good though."

"You think?"

"Don't you?"

Edward scrunched up his face.

"I take that as a no?"

"It's a definite no. But Tanya is happy you think so."

Bella sighed and leaned against the closet door. "I need to order flowers for over the… over the…." She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head.

"Just tell me what you want, love. I'll take care of it."

Bella picked absently at some chipped paint on the frame of her closet door. "Pink roses. Pink is her… was her…." She sighed again and ran her hand over her face. "Pink was her favorite color. And lavender. And white roses. They were the flowers in her wedding bouquet."

His mate looked at him for a few moments, but he didn't understand the look in her eyes. It was expectant, hopeful, questioning, but Edward didn't know what the question was, what she was hoping for. He knew there was some meaning to what she had just said, but he had no idea what it was. As he watched helplessly, the hope slowly died to be replaced with more sorrow. Those beautiful eyes held entirely too much sorrow.

"You don't remember any of it, do you?" she asked.

Edward hated to disappoint her, but he couldn't lie to her and shook his head sadly. There was no accusation in her tone, only loss. How could he ever have forgotten how much he loved this amazing girl? How could he ever have forgotten the miracle they'd been granted?

Bella came over and sat next to him on her bed taking his hands in hers. "They were the same flowers that were in your mother's wedding bouquet." She repeated to him what he had told her in a letter a month after his father's death.

Wide eyed, Edward absorbed every word like water on a sponge. That wasn't what he'd expected to hear, he'd expected her to tell him something about herself that he should've already known, that he should've remembered, but as usual, his beautiful angel wasn't thinking about herself. The loss in her voice hadn't been because he'd forgotten her; it had been because he'd forgotten his human life.

For a full minute they sat there together, just holding hands and looking into each other's eyes before Bella went back to her closet. "I have something that belongs to you."

Not having any idea what she could mean, Edward followed her. He watched as she pulled a purple box out of the back of her closet and held it to her chest like a security blanket before opening it. Inside he saw letters and recognized his own handwriting. It was slightly different, less perfect, more human. But it was unquestionably his.

In spite of all the pain and uncertainty swirling around them, a small smile crept onto his face. These were his letters to her. But what she pulled out was a sheet of stationary with the familiar purple border.

Looking up at him she returned a weak smile and handed it to him. "This is yours."

Without taking his eyes of the devastatingly sad beauty of her face, he accepted it from her.

Bella tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat as if they had solid form.

Eventually, Edward lowered his eyes to the letter she handed him. He could make out a faint imprint on the paper and felt a thrill when he realized it was a faded stain from where Bella had pressed a kiss to the letter before sending it to him.

Before _trying_ to send it to him….

With a jolt Edward realized this was the last letter Bella had written to him, but he had never received it because he was already ill, possibly already at the hospital. He didn't have to wonder what his poor angel suffered upon finding it still in their desk; he already knew. The image of her lying in her bed, curled tightly into a ball, barely responsive, was burned into his mind forever.

He opened his arms and she stepped into them, wrapping him tightly in her own.

"I'm so sorry, Bella."

She shook her head but didn't speak for several seconds. "It wasn't your fault. Charlie was sick. He was your cousin and you loved him and he was sick. You couldn't have left him alone without even a bed to lie in. You couldn't have. If you could have, you wouldn't have been you. You wouldn't have been the man I fell in love with. Twice." She took a deep breath before continuing. "That's why I know this image you seem to have of yourself as a monster is so ludicrous."

She looked up at him and bit her lip. There were still things they needed to discuss, and the sooner the better, but they would be difficult and she wasn't sure this was the right time. But no time like the present, or so they said. Better to get it over with so they could move on. "Carlisle said your and Tanya's families are the only ones who feed from animals." She felt his shoulders stiffen with tension, but he remained silent and she continued. "The others all hunt humans." It surprised her how easily the words came out. Shouldn't her own species being hunted for food be more difficult to speak of? "I take it limiting yourself to animals is difficult?"

Edward opened his mouth and closed it twice before reluctantly admitting, "Exceedingly."

"But you do it anyway."

"I don't…. I don't want to be a monster."

She ran her fingers up and down his back. "You're not. Edward, you're not. I wish you would believe me."

"Bella—"

"No, Edward. You're not. Your instinct is to hunt humans, but you go against it. Why? And you cannot say because you don't want to be a monster. I want to you explain to me why. And I want you to listen to yourself."

Slowly, he answered, "It's what Carlisle taught me."

Bella gave him time, slowly counting to one hundred before urging him to continue.

"But I… I wasn't content to refuse what my body craved, what it told me it wanted, what it was intended to have." He looked like his mind was somewhere far away, or sometime long ago. "I resented him for depriving me of what my body was meant to have, but I could hear in his thoughts how perfectly sincere he was. I could hear his deep, genuine grief for the humans he remembered who he'd seen being led to the slaughter like sheep, unaware of what was awaiting them, then their screams of terror when they realized…. He still carries tremendous guilt for not trying to stop it, to save them, even though he knows it would've been futile."

His voice trailed off to barely a whisper. "And I could hear his incredible joy in no longer being alone, how much he truly loved me as a son. I would have left sooner had I not known how much it would hurt him. But then he found Esme. I could not have born leaving him alone again. I could not have done that to him, but once he'd found Esme, he would never be alone again.

"He was heartbroken when I announced I was leaving. They both were. It was almost enough to change my mind, but I believed I could no longer tolerate forcing myself to go against my nature. So I left."

"But you came back. You stopped, and you came back."

"They were overjoyed. Carlisle especially. I was welcomed back like the prodigal son. Forgiven instantly. They'd never left. They'd stayed in the same place longer than was wise because they both had absolute confidence I would return."

"And they were right, you did."

Edward nodded his head mutely before continuing, "But not without placing them in danger first. There is always the risk that someone might start questioning something, paying particular attention, taking note of things others miss, checking stories. Humans avoid us naturally—a self-preservation instinct they don't even know they have. They sense a predator, a threat, and they steer clear."

Edward looked down at the girl he loved, who, instead of fearing him, had instinctively trusted him enough to fall asleep next to him. He played absently with a strand of her hair. "Well, most do."

He kissed the top of her head. "But over time familiarity builds a false sense of security and that instinct fades. Humans are very curious beings, and with time and familiarity that innate curiosity surpasses the instinct to stay away. That curiosity is dangerous. We can't afford for someone to go poking around."

"So you move on to the next city."

"So we move on to the next city. But they didn't. They stayed."

"Because they love you."

"More than I deserve after what I put them through. I broke their hearts. Carlisle felt the weight of my crimes, my sins, as if they were his own."

"You made a mistake, Edward. They forgave you."

"A mistake? Bella, I deliberately and premeditatedly killed 381 people."

"How many did you save?"

"What?"

"How many did you save? What about that little boy you mentioned?"

Edward shook his head frantically, his voice becoming much stronger, adamant. "No. Bella, don't. Please, don't. Don't try to justify it. Don't think what I did was anything short of murder. Please, don't. It's a very dangerous road to walk. Believe me, I know. I walked it for three years. I could've turned those people in to the police. I could've produced the evidence, could've told the authorities what I knew. I could've even… _encouraged_… them to turn themselves in and confess. But I did none of those things. I made excuses. I believed those excuses wholeheartedly, but I was deceiving myself. What I did was wrong."

Bella looked up at him in triumph. Edward didn't understand. She asked, "This was when?"

"Late 20's. Early 30's."

"Eighty years ago. Edward, you came, on your own, to see what you were doing was wrong, and you chose, on your own, to stop. It's been eighty years, and you still carry the guilt from that time. Monsters don't have a conscience. You do. You regret what you did. A monster wouldn't care. A monster would've killed that little boy too. You're not perfect, but you're not a monster."

Edward felt the weight of his decades old crimes begin to lift off his shoulders. It was still there, but it wasn't as heavy as it had been because he was no longer carrying the weight of it alone. He'd confessed to Carlisle and Esme, he'd even confessed everything to Charlie, but it hadn't helped him. Nothing had ever helped him like hearing those words from his Bella, and he wrapped his arms more securely around her. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Bella sighed deeply and closed her eyes. She was so tired. It was only afternoon, and she was exhausted. She was just now realizing, she was also hungry. Maybe packing could wait till after she'd eaten. She looked at her closet. She still had no idea what to pack. And she still needed to take the Cullens' clothing to the reservation. Would she have time to do that tomorrow? "When does our flight leave tomorrow?"

"Alice booked us onto the redeye. We don't take off till nearly midnight."

It took several seconds for Edward's words to fully register, but when they did Bella began to panic. He'd said "we." Phil's family lived in Ohio. What was the weather forecast for Ohio? What if the sun was out? And what about the plane? She remembered herself taking pictures for human Edward out the window of a plane. Planes flew _above_ the clouds. What were they going to do, ask everyone on board to close the shade on their window? She choked out, "You're coming?"

Edward almost looked offended. "Of course I am. I'd never leave you to face this alone. Did you really think I would?"

"But what about the sun? Ohio may not be Arizona but it isn't Washington either. It's sunny."

Now he understood. With a flash he also understood what had happened that day in Port Angeles. The look on her face was the same then as it was now. She'd already known he was a vampire. She must've seen that the sun had peaked out. She hadn't been sick; she'd been having a panic attack because she was afraid for him. That's why she'd asked him why he was so worried about her that day if he could read her mind. If he could've read her mind at that moment it would've saved him quite a bit of anxiety. "The sun doesn't hurt me, Bella."

"But you all ditch. You all cut school anytime the sun is out."

"I can't go out in the sun in public, but I promise, it doesn't hurt me."

"You can go out in the sun, just not in public?" Her voice was growing calmer now. Calmer, but curious.

"I'll show you why sometime."

He watched as her eyes drifted from his face and roamed around the room before she gasped and covered her face. "Oh, my God." She bent over with her arm wrapped around her waist and her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide with mirth. "Oh… My… God."

Edward's mouth twitched watching her.

Bella looked up at him in amazement. "You…."

He waited but she didn't say anything else. He prompted her, "I?"

She inhaled sharply, still staring at him with wide brown eyes. "You…. You sparkle!"

Edward was blown away. How had she possibly hit the nail on the head so easily?

"Oh, my God! You glitter in the sun! My boyfriend _sparkles_!"

Edward folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "I'm glad I amuse you so." He tried to look fierce, he really did, but with everything Bella had to deal with right now the relief of seeing her genuinely amused was too great. The corner of her mouth twitched, and one look at him had her on the floor, holding her stomach, and gasping for air she was laughing so hard.

It was over far too soon, almost as soon as it began, and as her laughter turned to sobs, she curled into a ball on the floor, crying where she had been laughing only a moment before.

Edward lifted her into his arms, and she clung to him as tightly as she had when he jumped with her in his arms from the eleventh story. Completely helpless, all he could do was hold her and wait until, finally, her sobs slowed. He handed her a handkerchief to wipe her face and rubbed her back.

"I'm a terrible person. What kind of person laughs the day they find out their mother died?"

When she spoke, she kept her eyes averted from him. He put two fingers under her chin and turned her face to him. The pain in her eyes was too much to look at, and he pulled her against him, cradling her in his lap. Kissing the top of her head he spoke into her hair. "You're under too much stress, Bella. It's too much for you to deal with. You're being put through too much. It's perfectly normal for your emotions to be all over the place. Remember, when you helped me with my mother? You told me to expect her emotions to be up and down. Like a roller coaster, you said. There's no normal, no right or wrong way to deal with a loss like this. You just deal with it the best you can."

She wiped her red, swollen eyes. "When did you become a shrink?"

"1952."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"You are looking at Dr. Edward Masen."

"Really?"

So much pride was held in her voice that he couldn't help but show off a little. "Yes, really. I've also become a medical doctor three times, so I technically I'm not only Dr. Masen, but also Dr. Johnson, Dr. Platt, and Dr. McCarty. We need to change names every time we move. Johnson was my mother's maiden name, Platt was Esme's, and McCarty was Emmett's last name. I've also," he ticked degrees off on his fingers, "passed the bar exam three times, and earned master's in history, music, architecture, and literature."

Bella was suitably impressed. "Wow. High school must bore the crap out of you."

"You have no idea." He stood up, setting Bella on her feet. "Now, you need to eat something. Doctor's orders."

Bella looked reluctant and looked back at her closet. "I still don't even know what to pack. I really have nothing to wear."

Edward arched his eyebrow disbelievingly. "Do you not remember the 'For Bella' section from Boutique Alice?"

Bella blushed beautifully and looked away.

"Really, love, just leave it to Alice. She'd be happy to do it. She wants to help."

She dropped her eyes to the floor and nodded. "Just tell her no black. OK?"

"No need, she heard you."

Bella shook her head and exhaled. "Stupid vampire hearing." Suddenly Bella's eyes widened and a look of mortification covered her face. "Oh, God."

"What? Bella, what's wrong?"

"Stupid vampire hearing! That's what's wrong! Oh, God. Edward, they heard us. Last night, they heard us, didn't they?" The last part was whispered, not that that prevented Tanya and Alice downstairs from hearing.

"That's all you're worried about?" His Bella was so embarrassed. It really was endearing.

"That's all!? Isn't that enough?"

Edward put his hands on her hips and tickled her sides with his thumbs. "Mind reader, Bella. Remember?"

Her mouth fell open and her back straightened before her face cringed. "Oh. Oh, _ew_."

"Believe me, after decades of overhearing them, I'm quite happy to be the one making some noise." As he backed her up against the wall, he covered her mouth with his own. The kiss was short but intense and when it was over Bella leaned her forehead against his chest. Being alone with Edward gave her the feeling of being insulated from the world, being in a safe little cocoon of their own where nothing could touch them. In here, there was just them. On the other side of the door was everything else. She really wished they could just stay in here, but she knew better.

"Now I've got a question for you."

"Fire away."

"Why so anti-black?"

She held him for a while longer before stepping away and picking up the box of his letters. It only took a moment to find the right one, and she handed it to him. His eyes widened as he took it from her. Edward felt as if he was moving in slow motion, like his body was suddenly too heavy to move, as his eyes drifted from hers to the letter he now held in his hand.

Bella watched a look of pain cross his face causing him to flinch, but only a moment later a radiant smile lit up his entire face. He looked at the letter briefly before flipping it over and enveloping her in his arms.

"Thank you so much, Bella."

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"I did."

"But… never mind. Show off."

"Bella?"

"Hmmm?"

Edward asked hesitantly, "What did my uncle do that was so very bad?"

Bella dropped her eyes to the floor and stepped back a half step, unsure how to answer. She wanted to protect him from anything that would hurt him, as this certainly would, but he had a right to know. It was unfair that he should forget his family.

He understood her hesitation. "Was it that bad?"

She looked up at him. If he was to know this, she wanted him to know the good first. "Your mother was an amazing woman, Edward. Kind, brave, generous, strong."

Pride shone out from his eyes. "I know."

Bella felt hopeful for a moment. "You do? You remember her?"

He sadly shook his head. "Carlisle knew her. I've seen his memories of her. She made quite an impression on him, and he admired her greatly."

Bella sighed, "You described her as formidable. She was the oldest of five children. Before your parents married, she worked as a hospital nurse."

Edward closed his eyes, knowing enough of human nature to understand where this was going. "He insulted her because her family wasn't wealthy enough."

Bella's voice hardened to stone. "Your uncle was a pompous fool, Edward. "

"You're right."

"You're damned straight I'm right."

"No. I mean you were right."

"About what?"

"I should've physically chucked him out the door."

Bella picked the box of letters back up from where it had been set on her dresser and handed it to him. "Take them, Edward. Read them. You told me a lot about your family and friends. They were good people. You deserve to know them."

Edward was speechless as he took the box of letters from her. He'd wished many times that he'd kept a journal while he was human that he would have to look at now, that could tell him some of what he could not remember, but what Bella was handing him was even better. Would he be able to tell when he first fell in love with her, he wondered. Would he be able to see it in his words, his expressions? As inadequate as the words 'thank you' seemed, they were all he had to offer. This beautiful, wonderful girl had given him so much more then he could ever hope to give her in return. He could only hope she could hear everything he felt for her in those two simple words.

It was amazing, he realized. Some of the smallest words in the English language—thank you, I love you—were the most powerful, the most important.

Bella sniffled and touched his chest. "Ok. Enough of the heavy stuff. I'm hungry. Time to feed the human."

Downstairs, Tanya had a bowl of soup and a thick slice of buttered bread waiting for her on the kitchen table. Her father, Tanya, and Alice were all waiting for them in the kitchen, but no one said a word. The silence was awkward and uncomfortable, and with everyone watching her, Bella was beginning to feel like a lab specimen being observed by researchers awaiting the outcome of an experiment. Even Edward was silent.

Once she finished her soup, she set her spoon down and rubbed her eyes. "If someone doesn't say something soon, I'll go crazy."

When her words were met only by the sound of someone shuffling uncomfortably and clearing their throat, Bella's eyes widened, and she looked from person to person. "Oh, God. What happened?"

Her father took her hand and squeezed it, shaking his head sadly. "Nothing, Bells. Nothing's happened." He sighed, and Bella could see how much strain he was under. "Jake called Carlisle, that's all. They want to know when you'll be bringing the clothes by."

Unconvinced, Bella looked at Edward. He came forward and knelt in front of her. "Bella, you don't have to do this."

"I want to. I want to help. This is the only thing I can do."

"You don't understand. They don't even need the clothes. They already know our scents; they're all over town for Pete's sake. Jacob only asked as a ploy to get you onto the reservation alone, away from me. Sam was not happy with him to say the least."

"Maybe… maybe I can…. I don't know, serve as kind of a bridge between the two sides. Get them to see that you're not the same as the others. You're not like Victoria. Bridge the gap, so to speak. Maybe I can ease some of the… animosity… they have for you."

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bella, please don't get your hopes up. They don't just dislike us. They detest us. They have no interest in seeing us as anything other than their mortal enemy. This… alliance… is nothing more than… an 'enemy of my enemy' situation. It's temporary. We're both facing the same threat, and it makes sense for both our interests to face it jointly. It's not the beginning of any kind of improved relations. If anything, this is likely to put even more stress on a truce that is already stretched very tightly. They see this situation with Victoria as being our fault. Their tribe is once again being threatened by our kind."

"But if they would just listen."

"They won't, love. Bella, dearest, I know Jacob was your friend. I understand you miss him, and I'm sorry to be the cause of anything that hurts you, but please don't expect too much. It's not his fault. It's not any of their faults. Their tribe was nearly decimated by vampires. Had it not been for… whatever quirk gives them their ability to change forms, it would have been."

Bella looked at the floor and nodded her head. A strand of her hair fell forward, and Edward tucked it back behind her ear. Even under the circumstances, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to let the long chestnut strands slide across his fingers. There had been a time once he was sure, even if he couldn't remember it, that he had believed a strand of her hair would be the only real physical contact he could ever hope to have with her. It would never cease to amaze him that she was here with him and she was his. "Bella, there's more."

Bella looked up at him with wide fearful eyes.

"No, no, love. I didn't mean it like that. It's just…. Bella, the wolves know nothing about any of our gifts. Temporary alliance aside, we need to keep it that way."

She nodded her head to show she understood. "Don't tell them Alice can see the future or that you can read minds. Right. Any other special powers I don't know about? Can Rosalie control the weather?"

Alice gave Edward a pointed look, and he flinched visibly. Bella half suspected she'd yelled at him with her thoughts, and when he looked back at her, she was sure of it.

"Oh, my God. Can she?"

"No, Rosalie doesn't have any special abilities."

"Who then?"

Alice stepped forward. "Jasper is empathic, Bella."

Bella's forehead scrunched slightly. "What does that mean, exactly? He knows what someone is feeling?"

"More than that. He actually feels what they're feeling." Alice ruffled her brother's hair. "Edward here has been driving him to distraction for months."

"He feels what other people feel?"

"He can also influence what they feel. Rile them up or calm them down. Make them feel confident or shy."

Bella didn't know what to say and turned toward Tanya when she spoke. "My sister, Kate. If someone touches her, she has the ability to create the impression of being shocked by an electric current."

Bella was overwhelmed. It had really only been a rhetorical question. She hadn't actually expected there to be more, but Tanya wasn't finished yet.

"And Eleazar. He…. When he meets someone, he can tell whether they have any special gifts, what they are, and how strong they are likely to be."

After Tanya spoke, Bella saw her glance briefly at Edward, who had a look of warning on his face. Bella looked back and forth between the two, suspicious of what that look meant. "What?"

"It's nothing, love. It's not important."

"No. What is it?"

"Bella, really it's—"

"No. Edward, I want to know." She turned to her father and Tanya. Her father was looking at the refrigerator like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen; Tanya was looking at him questioningly. When her father took her hand and kissed it, Tanya continued, but Edward begged her to stop. Bella looked back to Edward. He looked like he was in pain, like he might be physically ill. Whatever it was, it was bad. "Edward?"

He met her eyes only for a moment before looking away and squeezing his eyes shut. Alice put her hand on his shoulder. "She has a right to know, Edward."

Bella could feel her heart racing, and she tried to calm her nerves. If Edward didn't want her to know something, whatever it was would hurt her. But not knowing wouldn't make it go away. "Edward, please tell me. I'll only imagine something probably much worse."

When he spoke his voice was so muffled, she could barely hear him, and he couldn't meet her eyes. She could hear the pain in his voice better than his words themselves. The words themselves seemed to cut him as he spoke. He sounded like he was choking, forcing the words out. "Eleazar's gift works on humans as well." Bella sat and waited, but he didn't say anything more; feeling an incredible anticlimax she asked, "And?"

It was Tanya who spoke, her voice held only a small fraction of the fear of Edward's, but it also held what Bella thought was pride. "You're a shield, Bella. As is your father. Very powerful, if you can block Edward fully."

Bella sat unbelievingly. That was it? That was all? That was what had Edward so afraid? They already knew that. They already knew he couldn't hear her thoughts; Edward had told her that himself a short while ago. She didn't know there was an actual name for it, but still, really, what was the big deal? After a moment of shocked inaction she slapped the side of Edward's head in frustration. "That's it? Jesus, Edward! You scared the crap out of me! I thought… God, I don't know what I thought. I thought maybe Victoria had some incredible super power that would make her unbeatable or something!"

She collapsed back into her chair bonelessly. Her hand stung where she'd slapped him, but she didn't think acknowledging that would be a good idea. She suspected he'd blame himself for having too hard of a head.

Alice explained, "No, no incredible super power. We know from Laurent that she has a talent for escaping, but we have no idea what talents any of her army may have. Nor does she have any idea of ours. She knows how valuable a talent can prove. If any of her army possesses one, and it's likely they do, she'll try to use it to her fullest advantage; however, it's unlikely it will be well developed. We don't believe she'll risk the loss of her army's strength by devoting too much time to developing the skills of only a few, or even that she would have the skills to do so. It can take a lot of work."

Bella sat for a moment thinking about what Alice had just told her. Her friend didn't sound like herself. She reminded Bella of how Jasper had sounded this morning, all military like. Bella yawned tiredly before saying, "The wolves need to know that. It's not fair to keep it from them."

Edward took the hand she'd slapped him with and kissed her palm before holding it against his cool cheek. Bella felt a spike of anxiety realizing he did know she'd hurt it and did, in fact, blame himself. He spoke reassuringly, wanting her to know they hadn't planned to keep the wolves in the dark about something that could endanger them. "We're trying to decide how best to warn them without giving ourselves away at the same time. And they do have a secret of their own, or they think they do. When they are in their wolf form, they have a shared telepathy."

"Like yours?"

"Not exactly. They only hear the other wolves, but they don't seem to be limited as to range. They've tested it up to hundreds of miles."

Bella was silent, thinking, before nodding her head, pleased with her plan. "I'll tell them."

"Bella, no, I don't—"

"No. Edward, listen. Let me tell them. You already said Jacob only asked for something of yours because he suspected I would be the one to deliver it, because he wanted to talk to me. So we'll talk."

"Bells, he's right. It's not a good idea."

"Dad—"

"Bells, no."

"But I—"

"Bells, Emily Young wasn't attacked by a bear."

Bella was taken aback and looked at her father, not understanding. She started to speak but stopped, then started and stopped again. Hadn't been attacked by a bear? Of course she had been. Bella'd seen the horrible, angry red scars that marred half of her face and her entire left arm more than once. What was her father talking about, and why would he make such an unrelated, random comment at a time like this?

Before Bella could form her confusion into a comprehensible question, Edward explained, "It was an accident, Bella. A horrible accident." His voice was so thick with remorse, she shivered.

Again, after several seconds, she started to speak and stopped without uttering a sound, her eyes traveling between her father and Edward. Finally, her mind succeeded in getting her vocal chords to at least somewhat cooperate. Still she only managed two words. "An accident?" Bella was lost, and she was tired. Everyone except her clearly understood. She felt like she'd dozed off to sleep during one conversation and woken up in a totally different one, but no one had noticed.

"It was last year. Right after Victoria and James killed those people."

Bella said she remembered.

"It was only for a second, but it was enough. He's under so much pressure, and he's only twenty."

Bella suddenly understood, but now that she understood, she wished she didn't. She remembered Sam's cold reaction to them last Easter, Rachel's trying to explain that he was upset because his girlfriend had been injured. The words Edward had used to describe the wolves echoed through her mind. _Unstable, unpredictable. Dangerous._

"Sam did that?"

"It wasn't his fault, but he'll never forgive himself." Edward paused and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "After James was killed, Victoria kept appearing and disappearing for a week or two before she left. It was like she was taunting us and the wolves, making sure we all knew she was still out there. That was part of the reason we weren't here when you came over Easter. Tanya stayed behind to protect your father and you, but the rest of us left. We'd hoped if we left the area, she'd follow us, but she didn't. Once, when Victoria had escaped from the wolves he'd sent after her, Sam lost control of himself for just a second. Emily was standing too close."

Bella felt like she hadn't slept in a week. She was so tired. "Poor Sam. Poor Emily."

"Bella, I know Jacob was your friend. I know you still care about him, and I know he still cares about you. I know he would never deliberately hurt you. But if just for a second, just a fraction of a second, if he was to lose control of himself…."

Bella nodded her head and sighed in defeat. "Don't tell him anything potentially upsetting."

Bella dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her eyes. God, she was so tired. And she was completely useless to Edward—_again_.

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Well there you have it! I hope it was worth the wait—again, I'm sorry it's taking so long right now to get chapters up, and I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to you all your reviews. Hopefully after the New Year things should get back to normal. But by then, we'll be nearly done!

NOW PLEASE GO VOTE!


	42. Chapter 42

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I had hoped to have this up on Monday, but it just didn't happen. I should be back on schedule soon, though. At least I hope to be.

If, like me, you're a crier, you might want to get a tissue.

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and Ange de l'aube, who filled in for SecretlySeverus while she's on vacation.

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Slowly, Bella pulled off to the shoulder of the road and parked the car. Her hand was holding the gear shift like a vice. Never before had she felt the expression 'the silence was deafening' like she did right now. Neither she nor Edward had spoken a word since they left her father's house, and the silence was like a lead weight pressing down on her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was in exactly the same position he was in when she'd turned the ignition on fifteen minutes ago. Except for the barely perceptible movement of his jaw as he ground his teeth, he was as still as a statue. His eyes were focused straight ahead. His hands were clenched tightly in fists as usual whenever Jacob was near. The rest of the tribe didn't seem to elicit that response. The tension, yes. The fists, no. That was just Jacob.

She bit her lip and sighed as she reached out for his hand. No matter what was wrong, just being able to touch him always made it seem better. Edward relaxed his hand, flipped it over, and laced their fingers together. His blank expression filled with emotion as he lowered his eyes to their joined hands, his voice strained as he spoke. "Please, don't do this."

She stroked the side of his index finger with her thumb. "I have to."

"No, you don't."

"I know you worry for me, but please understand, I cannot stay at home and do nothing," Bella quoted Edward's own words back to him—the words he had once written to her, trying to explain his need to help those who fell during the epidemic.

His face twitched. "Using my own words against me is hardly fair, Bella."

"All's fair in love and war, they say."

The corner of his mouth twitched again, this time in amusement. "Who are 'they?' I'd like to talk to them."

Bella hesitated then smiled briefly. It was an empty smile, hollow, like her facial muscles felt the same way she did. _Well, we've got to do something. _"I've wanted to talk to them once or twice myself." Edward looked at her for the first time since they'd left her father's house. She hurried to reassure him again. "It'll be fine, Edward. I've been on the rez dozens of times. I'll be fine. I promise."

"You don't understand, Bella. They weren't under the same strain they are now. Victoria. You and me. They're almost at their breaking point."

"Everything that can be done to deal with Victoria is being done; you said so yourself. You said it'll be easy, and you and me, what we have, is just none of their business."

"It isn't the fight they're worried about. They're looking forward to it." He shook his head tiredly. "Imagine ten Emmett's. They're looking forward to the fight itself like a child would look forward to their birthday."

"Then what's…."

His eyes momentarily returned to the road leading into the rez before returning to their joined hands then her face. "It's the waiting. Just sitting around and waiting while they know she and her new friends are out there killing humans and knowing they can't do anything about it. It goes against everything they stand for. Everything they _exist_ for. Of course, they know there are others of my kind out there doing that every day, but this is different. This they have actual knowledge of. It's something specific. It's driving them crazy."

Bella's grip tightened on his hand, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Bella. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. That was a thoughtless thing to say."

She exhaled slowly but spoke determinedly. "No. No, I don't want you to edit things to make them nice for me. I know what Victoria is doing." Despite the hot air coming from the vents in the dashboard, Bella shivered. "I just want this to be over. I just want to skip forward and have it all be over."

Edward pulled her to him and pressed his lips to her forehead. "It will be soon. I promise, my angel. It will be over soon."

Bella allowed herself a few minutes to absorb the feel of his arms wrapped around her, his body against her. She wanted to carry that feeling with her onto the rez. Her eyes turned toward the road stretched out in front of her, and Bella looked at it like it led to some great unknown instead of being just the road to the house of a friend. But it wasn't that anymore. Now it truly was exactly what it felt like, a road leading she didn't know where or to what. She had no idea what kind of reception awaited her on the reservation. From Jacob or from any of the others. In her first two months in Forks, she'd traveled this road many times to visit Jacob. But she hadn't been here once since that fateful day in February when she'd learned the truth about Edward and Jacob.

Or more importantly, when Jacob had learned the truth about Edward and her.

She'd tried to explain. She'd called so many times, left so many messages. Jacob was her friend. If only he could see how much she loved Edward, how much he loved her; she'd been sure he'd have understood. If only he'd listen to her, let her explain. But he hadn't. Jacob hadn't returned a single phone call, not one single message. And for two weeks she had to have left at least thirty of them. Eventually, she'd given up.

Bella sighed and turned her face into Edward's chest. She wanted to climb across the car to the passenger seat, climb onto his lap, and go to sleep.

"Bella, love, you really don't have to do this. We can turn around and go home." Trying to lift her spirits, he teased her. "I'll drive. You drive as slow as an old lady. One would think you were the one who was over a hundred years old."

"This from the man who was once afraid to drive over fifty."

Edward buried his face in her hair and inhaled as deeply as he could. "I didn't want to worry my mother."

"Uh huh."

The minutes passed as they sat together in the front of her father's car. "Jacob will wonder if I'm still coming." Bella picked her head up off Edward's chest and looked at him. The tension that had eased for a while was back on his face. His eyes were focused on a distant spot in the trees.

"They know we're here," he said.

Bella turned, looking toward where Edward was glaring. She couldn't see anything, but he clearly could. They were being watched. A wave of anxiety began to creep up on her. Maybe…. Maybe she should listen to Edward; he knew more about the wolves than she did. Maybe she should just turn the car around and go home. She'd given Jacob so many chances to talk. Day after day she'd called him. He was the one who'd passed. If he wanted to talk to her, he could come to her. She didn't owe him anything now. Emily Young's scarred face floated in front of her eyes as the anxiety tried to wedge its way further into her mind, but she beat it back. Edward is just Edward. So Jacob is just Jacob. And he'd finally shown he wanted to talk to her. He'd come up with this excuse of needing samples of the Cullens' scents to get a chance to talk to her. She owed her friend this one last chance.

Her resolve strengthened, Bella straightened in the driver's seat and gripped the wheel tightly.

"Bella, please. Let's just go back to your father's house. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do."

"Bella—"

"Edward, I need to do this. For myself. You've got to trust me."

"I do. Love, I do trust you." Edward paused as emotions warred across his face. "It's them I don't trust."

"Jacob was my friend. I want to talk to him, even if it's just to say goodbye."

"I don't like this." Both his expression and tone showed what an understatement that was.

"I know."

"It was only this morning that you learned about your mother. This is too much, Bella. You're only human, you know." He spoke to her, but his words were stern, severe, threatening—an obvious reminder to whomever was watching them, and she was grateful to him.

"I'll be fine."

"One hour. One. Hour."

Bella knew he meant it. She knew this was torturous for Edward, and she appreciated his willingness to let her go anyway more than she could ever say. She was under no illusion that if Edward decided to absolutely forbid it, she'd never get past him. Nor was she under any illusion that if she wasn't back within that one hour, treaty be damned, he'd be coming for her. The mental picture of him jumping and swinging from tree to tree like a vampire Tarzan after his human Jane while the wolves leapt, howled, and snapped at him with their dagger-like teeth was so ridiculous that under any other circumstances she'd have been doubled over laughing.

She didn't laugh, but she did smile at him. Edward was one hundred and eight years old, but he was as new to this as she was. He was so vulnerable. She knew the idea of her going to see Jake was tearing him up, but he wasn't trying to stop her. Not really. He was being honest with her that he didn't want her to go.

"One hour. I promise."

"I really don't like this, Bella."

"I know."

The expression on his face and the sound of his voice once again reminded her of a small child. She wondered if they were still being watched. She assumed they were. _Well, _Bella thought to herself, _wolves are related to dogs, right? They mark their territory. So, they ought to understand this. _

"Edward?"

He looked at her with his beautiful golden eyes, but before he could say a word she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him toward her. As her mouth claimed his, her other hand found its way into his hair, and she kissed him with all the passion, all the love and devotion she felt for him. Kissing Edward was always like an incredible dream, the most intense rush imaginable. But this was something more still. With the pain she felt for her mother and the fear she felt due to Victoria, Bella felt like she was in the middle of a storm. Like a tornado had swept her up and thrown her against a brick wall, like a raging river had carried her away and the current was holding her underwater. Edward was her safe shelter from the storm, a strong hand pulling her above water. But this kiss was something else altogether, something more than she could explain.

Finally, she pulled away breathlessly. "I love you, Edward."

Edward's hair was sticking up where she'd run her hands through it. His eyes showed that he'd felt that same something she had. "I love you, too."

"One hour. I promise."

He nodded his head and kissed her again, a short tender kiss. "One hour. I will be _right here_. Waiting."

Bella sat back in the driver's seat, and after several seconds, Edward slowly, reluctantly opened his door and got out of the car. Forcing herself to pull her eyes away from him, Bella started the car and pulled back onto the road before she lost her nerve and changed her mind. She only had a vague idea of where the actual treaty line was drawn, but Bella swore she could feel a change as she drove into the reservation. Edward couldn't follow her here; not without destroying the fragile truce between the two sides that could very well be the difference between life and death for both. She'd expected to be nervous, to feel uncomfortable, but she hadn't expected for every muscle in her body to be tensed for a fight. She'd expected butterflies, but what she had was more like killer bees swarming in her stomach. Every cell in her body was telling her to turn around. Edward had told her humans felt a subconscious self-preservation instinct to stay away from them, but she'd never felt like that. Till now. Only it wasn't the Cullens that instinct was telling her to stay away from. It was Jacob. With every second on the reservation, the feeling she was somewhere she didn't belong grew. Her hands were sweating, her heart was racing, and she was feeling sicker by the second.

It was like driving through a ghost town. There was no one around. No other cars. No one sitting out on their porches. No kids playing. The reservation looked totally deserted. By the time she reached the small, red house, her legs were shaking.

Bella put the car in park and took several deep, slow breaths in a futile attempt to calm herself. This was just Jacob. What was she so afraid of? She sat behind the wheel repeating that one sentence over and over, _It's just Jacob. It's just Jacob. It's just Jacob._

But she still felt sick.

She closed her eyes and continued to breathe slowly and deeply through her nose. So focused on trying to steady her nerves was she that she never heard Jacob walk up to the car. When he opened the door, she screamed.

"Jeez, Bella. Maybe you should cut back on the caffeine a bit, ya think?"

"Jacob. You scared the crap out of me."

"Ew, I really hope not. Cuz, ya know, that'd just be gross."

Bella rolled her eyes. She felt marginally better. She was still unaccountably afraid, but she didn't feel like she was going to either pass out or throw up at the moment. "Really funny. Ever thought of becoming a comedian? You could do stand up."

Jake was being so casual, so much like he had before that day in February, it was almost as if that day had never happened, as if he hadn't turned away from her so abruptly and completely. But he had, and with that remembrance, anger started to replace the fear she'd felt on the drive through the rez. Bella got out of the car and walked around to the trunk to unlock it. "So, what happened? You guys forget to pay the phone bill or something?"

"Yeah, um, about that…."

Jacob at least looked remorseful, Bella noted. Watching his foot kick at the gravel in the road in front of his house must be fascinating with how absorbed he was by it.

"Why didn't you call me back?"

He shrugged his shoulders without looking up at her.

"That's not a very good answer, Jake. I called you over and over, day after day, for two weeks."

He shrugged his shoulders again and looked at the fire hydrant across the street so intently you would think he expected it to get up any minute and start doing magic tricks.

"I thought we were friends. Was one phone call really so much to ask?"

Jacob finally looked at her, and she could see how conflicted he was. "What was there to say?" he asked in resignation.

"Oh, I don't know? How about…." But she was lost. What, really, had there been to say? "I don't know, Jake."

"Anything I might've said, you wouldn't have liked. It would only have made it worse."

"Jake, he's—"

"He's a blood sucker."

"Yeah? I'm a flesh eater, so what's your point?"

"Bella, they're not normal. They're not _natural_. They shouldn't even exist."

"Transforming into a wolf is normal? _That's_ natural?"

"We can't help what we are! Do you think we _chose_ this?"

"Do you think any of them did? Do you think they chose this? They can't help what they are any more than you can."

"See, that's where you're wrong. They did choose this. They did have a choice. At least one of them did. He didn't have to make anymore… abominations… he _chose_ to."

"And your father _chose_ to have you. He knew what you would be, what you would be able to do. He still chose to have children."

"Jesus, Bella! That's different!"

"Why? Why should your father have the right to have a family, but Carlisle not? Why should he be forced to be alone? Because you don't approve? What gives you the right to decide what another person can or can't do?" Bella knew arguing with him, risking upsetting him, was dangerous, but she couldn't help it.

Jacob picked up a rock and hurled it into the trees to vent his anger. A snide remark about playing fetch was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. Jacob was one of her first friends, and in spite of everything, in spite of the chasm that had grown between them, part of her wanted her friend back. Bella sighed sadly. She leaned back against her father's car and kicked the gravel on the road just as Jacob had done. "Jake, why am I here? You wanted me here, and I'm here, but I didn't come here to argue with you about Edward."

Had Bella been looking at him she'd have seen him visibly deflate. When she looked back, he seemed like a different person, his shoulders were slumped, his hands were in the pockets of his cut off jean shorts. He looked contrite, apologetic. "I'm sorry, Bella. I promised myself I wouldn't… you know…. I just… I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. About your mom, I mean. I know what it's like to lose your mother."

Just like that, Bella's rollercoaster emotions went haywire again, and she started crying. Warm arms wrapped around her and pressed her against a warm chest. But it wasn't just warm; it was hot. Really, really hot. Uncomfortably hot. She wanted to push him away, but she remained still. If Jake was willing to try, she could try too. Her crying slowed. "This must be like what it feels like to be bi-polar," she said.

"It's what it feels like to lose someone you love."

Bella sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Edward would've had a handkerchief or a tissue ready for her.

"Come on, let's go inside for a while," Jake said. "It looks like it might rain."

"Really? Rain in Forks? _Naw_."

"Now look who's the comedian."

Bella unlocked the trunk and pulled out the small suitcase containing eleven t-shirts and handed it to Jacob. "Might as well go through the motions."

"Yeah…. Saw through that, did they?"

"Mhmmm"

"Sam wasn't happy with me."

"No. Edward said he wasn't."

Jacob stopped and looked at her. He cocked his head to the side. "How would he know?"

_Oh, crap. I wasn't supposed to tell him about Edward. Crap. Crap. Crap! _"Jeez, Jacob. I'm only human, and I could see it. His body language might as well have screamed it."

Jacob continued to look at her like he wanted to question her, but Bella hurried into the house and grabbed the remote for the T.V., dodging the question before he could ask it. He followed her in. "So, can I get you anything? Soda? Something to eat?"

"No, thanks. Ta…. Oh. Um. I… I had soup at the house before I left." Bella sighed uncomfortably. What hope did saving their friendship have if she had to censor everything she said? She looked around the tiny room as she tried to think of something they could talk about that wouldn't, A.) make her cry, or B.) make them argue. There weren't that many safe topics, really.

Jacob seemed to be having the same problem, because he didn't say anything either. Bella could hear the clock ticking on the wall. The sound was making her jumpier. Finally she said, "So. Where's your dad?"

Jacob looked apologetic as he answered her. "He's at the Clearwater's."

"Oh. How're they?"

"OK"

"Oh, good. Good. That's good."

That seemed to exhaust the conversation, and they fell back into an uneasy silence punctuated by short awkward questions and even shorter and more awkward answers. Finally, Bella decided she'd had enough and said it was about time she got back. "Tell your dad I'm sorry I missed him."

"Yeah. I will."

She'd hoped he'd have a message from Billy for her dad, but she waited in vain. Jacob never mentioned him.

They walked out of the house together and stood by the car looking everywhere but at each other. Bella looked from house to house. There were no signs of life anywhere. No lights were visible in any of the houses, no T.V.'s, no nothing. She and Jacob could have been the only two people on the reservation. "Where is everyone anyway? It was like this when I drove in too. I didn't see a single person. It's kinda freaky."

Jacob didn't answer her. He didn't have to. As the words left her mouth, Bella suddenly understood. No one was around because she was there. Everyone was hiding in their homes, lights off, shades drawn, _because she was there_. She swallowed back her tears. She couldn't see anyone, but she assumed she was being watched, just like she and Edward had been earlier, and she didn't want whoever was watching her to see her cry, to see how much they'd hurt her.

She opened the car door, but renewed anger overrode the hurt, and she slammed it shut. Her hand was shaking on the handle. "What? What do they think I'm going to do? Steal their children and feed them to him? Do they think I'm…. What? Going to lure their husbands and sons away for a quick drink? God, Jacob! Why did you bring me here?"

Bella opened the door again, but Jacob tried stopped her from leaving, "Bella, wait—"

"For what, Jake? Wait for what? You don't know him. None of you do. Because none of you could be bothered. You judged them by things others did even though you knew they were different. He volunteered with injured veterans coming home from war. Did you know that? No. You didn't, did you? He intended to enlist and fight himself as soon as he was old enough, but he never got the chance. I bet you didn't know that either.

"Did you know he worked himself almost to death, literally, trying to help people who were dying? Did you know he sat next to a young girl's bedside as she died from that God awful flu? He didn't even know her, didn't even speak her language, but he brushed her hair back from her face and sat with her. He put himself at risk of getting sick himself, but he didn't leave her. He didn't leave any of them. Did you know he sat up and held a sick little boy, his cousin, on his lap all night long because there was no bed for him? Did you know that after weeks of surviving in that hell, that that was what cost him his life? Not leaving his little cousin. He loved that little boy so much that he risked his life rather than leave him alone. What the hell have you done—have any of you done—that makes you fit to judge him? He's made mistakes, yes, but even with his worst mistakes, he's never spilled one drop of innocent blood. He's never, ever, hurt an innocent human being."

Even through her anger, there was some small part of her that knew she was about to go way too far, that what she was about to say was unforgivable, and Bella tried to stop herself, but Jacob's hand was still on the car door and just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a face peering out from behind a curtain. She turned her head quickly toward the house across the street, but it was too late. The person had closed the drape—she could see it still swaying slightly—and gone back into hiding, and that pushed her over the edge.

Bella turned back to Jacob and could actually feel as if her eyes were turning to ice. "Can all of you say that?" she spat out.

Jacob recoiled from her at her words. She knew she shouldn't have said it, and she knew she would eventually regret saying it. But right now she didn't. Jacob looked like he was in pain, and that was good. Why should she be the only one?

Looking down at the ground, his body visibly trembling, Jacob licked his lips and spoke slowly, "I think you should leave now, Bella."

Already her anger was beginning to dissipate enough that she could regret her tone of voice if not yet her words. "I think I never should've come. Edward was right. I shouldn't have come."

She opened her door again, but this time Jacob made no move to stop her. He backed away as she pulled onto the road. Now that she was behind the closed doors of the car, within the false sense of privacy they provided, Bella let her tears fall. She drove through the reservation much faster than was wise, but she wouldn't be coming across any pedestrians or other cars anyway. All she wanted was to get back to Edward, back to where she belonged.

Her tears were clouding her vision, but she made it off the reservation without any trouble, and as soon as she saw him standing there, exactly where she'd left him, exactly where he'd said he'd be, Bella slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. Running into Edward's arms was like running face first into a brick wall, but she didn't care. They were Edward's arms that were around her, it was his chest she laid her head against, and it was his voice that spoke to her so softly.

"Take me home," she requested.

The world spun as Edward, a little too quickly, lifted her in his arms. As he set her down on the passenger seat, Bella heard the horrible, howling cry of a mortally wounded animal.

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"Bella, love. Eat something. Please." Bella sat next to him, pushing food around on her plate but never actually putting any on her fork. Edward had forced down more of the food on the plate in front of him than she had from hers, and it was sitting uncomfortably like a rock in his stomach. Phil's parents, Andrew and Eleanor Dwyer, and his brother, Andrew Jr., and his family had come to their hotel for brunch. They would all go to the funeral home together and meet the priest for a short, private prayer service before the viewing began. Having them there put him, Tanya, and Alice in the position of having to actually eat at least a little, but these were the people who most shared Bella's pain, who most understood it. Even though she'd only met them once before, at the wedding, their shared loss bonded them. His normally reserved Bella had fallen into Phil's mother's arms the moment they saw each other, and the two had cried together. If having them there this morning helped her even just a little, he would do anything, as would Tanya and Alice. Edward grimaced as he poked at a sausage link with his knife, even force the lumpy, greasy, foul smelling food on their plates down their throats.

Mrs. Dwyer joined him in encouraging her to eat something, but Bella only continued to stare unblinkingly at her plate and push her food around. Her father sat at her other side and silently placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The fork dropped from Bella's hand and clattered against the plate. She dropped her head into her hands, and her shoulders shook as she took several deep breaths. Although no new tears had fallen, she wiped her eyes reflexively, her hands shaking as she did so. This was not the first time she was suddenly overcome with emotion. Her voice shook as badly as her hands when she spoke. "I'm sorry. I just…. I need some air." Bella pushed her untouched food away and dropped her napkin onto her plate as she stood and hurried from the room.

Pausing only long enough to glance quickly at Charlie, Edward followed her. She had gone out the solid glass doors leading to the hotel's pool. A large navy blue and white striped canvas awning provided several small tables in the area just outside the doors with shade, and Bella was seated at the corner table, farthest from the sun. Her hands were steepled in front of her face. Her fingertips covered her closed eyes. Her forehead was creased, her eyebrows drawn together. Her chin rested on her thumbs. She looked like a grief stricken angel at prayer.

Edward slowly knelt next to her. Silently, he placed his hand on her knee under the table and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. Bella leaned into him and moved her arm to rest against his chest, her fingers weaving into his hair. Together, they silently leaned one against the other.

Edward listened to the steady beating of her heart, her soft breaths. No words were spoken between them for several minutes. Nothing he could say would ease her loss, he knew. He'd tried for two days to think of something to say, but nothing had helped. It was only his presence that he could offer her.

Eventually, he heard Alice and Tanya in his mind, reluctantly telling him it was time to go. He lifted his head and kissed her shoulder. "Love?"

Bella opened her eyes and looked at him. There were shadows under her eyes that rivaled those under his own. She'd barely slept the past two nights—especially with the late flight last night arriving in the early morning hours before sunrise—but she'd steadfastly refused to take anything to help her sleep. "It's time to go. Isn't it?"

Nodding silently, he held his hand out to her, and she accepted it. Walking hand-in-hand back into the hotel, Bella kept her eyes downcast. "I have to apologize to Phil's family. I didn't mean to cause a scene like that."

"That was hardly a scene, Bella. And you have nothing to apologize for. Everyone understands."

"You're sure you'll be OK? The sun, I mean."

He kissed the top of her head and let her intoxicating scent fill his lungs. "We'll be fine." She already knew they'd be hidden from the sun and was trying to distract herself, Edward understood. This hotel had been chosen specifically because the parking was in an underground lot and, fortunately, the funeral home had a covered carport. It had been constructed with the idea of protecting mourners from the elements as they entered and exited the building, but it would serve just as well to shield three vampires from the sun.

They reentered the room together. Phil's niece and nephew were half-hidden behind their parents and peeking out at Alice and Tanya. Children were always the most observant and the least concerned with hiding their unease around them. Phil's parents, his brother, and sister-in-law rationalized their discomfort around them as being due to the situation, but children accepted their instincts without questioning them.

The funeral parlor was not far, and the trip took less than fifteen minutes. After exiting the car, Bella hesitated at the curb. She was not ready for this, and Edward's heart ached for her. No amount of time would be enough to prepare her. She'd known her mother was dead for two days, but right now, in this moment, standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the large wooden double doors, it became suddenly and painfully real. For two days she'd had distractions to turn to, to hide behind, but right now there was nothing but the horrible truth behind those doors.

She gripped his hand so tightly he knew her fingers would ache when she relaxed her hand. Phil's parents were in much the same state as Bella was, and he could hear their grief in their thoughts. Their minds were filled with images of their son—the moment he was born, his first steps, his first day of high school, his graduation, his first T-ball game when he was five, the day he got signed to a major league team, the day he told them he'd met _the one_, his wedding day. Feeling like a voyeur intruding on their private grief, he tried to tune their thoughts out, but in their grief their thoughts were screaming at him.

The funeral director came out to greet them and shook hands with the Dwyers before introducing himself to Charlie and Bella as Patrick Yardley. The man looked about sixty and had a genuine expression of sympathy about him, which was explained by his thoughts of Phil as a teenager with another boy, apparently the man's son, playing on their high school baseball team together. He was naturally compassionate and professional and tactfully escorted them into the large Tudor style building.

The building had once been the large, private home of a prominent family in the coal industry in the late nineteenth century. Edward's eyes took in the dark oak paneling in the entry hall, the heavy draperies around the original leaded glass windows. Though larger, it reminded him in some ways of what he knew of the home he had once lived in with his parents in Chicago from Carlisle's memories.

"Edward?" Bella's eyes were looking at him questioningly, but he shook his head before she could ask what he was thinking about.

The priest came forward and took Mrs. Dwyer's hands in his own, patting them gently, before shaking hands with Mr. Dwyer and saying good morning to Phil's brother and sister-in-law and their children. Both children served as altar servers in their church and attended Sunday school, and the priest, who was introduced to them as Father Jeffrey, knew the whole family by name. Looking down at the two children, he remembered Phil and his brother as altar boys themselves when they were young and some of the mischief the two had gotten up to.

Mr. Dwyer introduced him first to Bella and her father.

"You have my deepest sympathy, my dear. Such a tragic loss. I am sorry I was never able to meet your mother, but I understand she was very loving, very full of life."

Bella's bottom lip quivered, and her grip on Edward's hand tightened further. Charlie then introduced Father Jeffrey to him, Tanya, and Alice. The man took an involuntary step backward before catching himself and welcoming them. He spoke to them briefly before asking them to follow him into the back for a short prayer.

If Edward had still been human, he'd never have heard Bella's soft whimper, it was so low. Her eyes were fixed on the archway to the back room where the bodies were laid out. He wished he could help her, but what could he say? _'It'll be OK?' _ It wouldn't be OK, and the words would be trivializing. _'I know how you feel?'_ He didn't, and he wouldn't pretend to.

"Edward?"

He gently squeezed her hand. "I'm right here, love. I'm right here."

Phil's mother had a handkerchief held to her mouth. She was sobbing quietly.

"Dad?"

"Right here, Bells."

Reluctantly, the small party moved toward the viewing room. Phil's family stopped a few steps in front of the door; his mother wasn't able to bring herself to see her son's body.

Eyes on the floor, Bella stepped into the room with Edward and her father at her side and Tanya and Alice right behind. Looking up without raising her head, Bella gasped and turned away, her eyes squeezed shut, her hand over her mouth. Edward wrapped his arm around her and guided her to a chair, sitting her down facing away from the front of the room and kneeling in front of her. "Alice, get her some water, please."

"No. No, I'm… I'm fine. I'm OK. I'm OK. It was just…. It was just…." Bella's voice broke, and she took several deep breaths. "I'm OK. It was just…. It was just a shock."

She tried to look at them reassuringly, but her bottom lip was twitching and her eyes were filling with tears. Alice pressed a paper cup into her hand, and they urged her to drink. Obediently, she took a small sip but set the cup down.

"Bells, please drink."

Bella shook her head and hesitatingly looked over her shoulder toward her mother's body. She doubled over, gasping, "Oh, God…. Mom."

Edward wrapped his arms around her and spoke softly into her ear. "I'm here, love. Lean on me. I've got you."

After several seconds, she sat up straight and took a deep breath. Tanya handed her tissues, and she wiped her eyes. She nodded her head at them. "I'm OK now." Turning in her seat, she looked at her mother lying in her silvery mauve casket next to her husband in his matching silvery blue one. Tears still leaked from Bella's eyes, but she sat up straighter, stronger. She wiped again at her eyes as she stood up and walked to the front of the room. Edward moved to follow her, but Alice's hand on his arm stopped her. "Give her a minute."

Against his better judgment, he listened to his sister and waited behind.

Standing at the casket, Bella looked down at her mother. Her mouth moved wordlessly; she didn't speak out loud, but a hundred emotions flitted across her face. After a couple minutes, she stepped over to Phil before closing her eyes and sighing.

She opened her eyes and turned back to where her family sat watching her. "They look peaceful." They joined her, and she stepped into Edward's arms. "Everyone always says the person looks like they could be sleeping, but it's not true. She doesn't look anything like she's just sleeping, but she does look peaceful. I was so afraid…." Bella buried her face in Edward's chest and took a deep breath before going on. "I know the coroner told Carlisle there were no… no… no head injuries… but I was still afraid. They just—"

There was a sudden and anguished cry behind them followed by several people talking loudly at the same time. Phil's mother had fainted the moment she saw her son's body, and her family was gathered around her, all talking over each other. Bella hurried over to her just as the funeral director was waving smelling salts under the poor woman's nose. This wasn't the first time he'd seen a parent faint after seeing their child laid out, no matter what their child's age, and he always kept smelling salts in his pocket in case they might be needed. Mr. Dwyer was calling his wife's name anxiously and looking lost and overwhelmed. Mrs. Dwyer came around, momentarily dazed and confused, but the moment reality came back to her, anyone could see the light in her eyes visibly fade, and she leaned heavily against her remaining son.

Bella joined them as they approached the caskets but stood slightly apart from them. Phil's sister-in-law made all the expected well-intentioned but useless comments people make when trying to be helpful and console someone when their remaining quiet would be so much more preferred. In that moment, there was nothing that could be said that could take away the Dwyers' all-consuming pain of losing a child.

Phil's mother closed her eyes briefly before turning away. She took her grandchildren's hands and walked with them over to a couch positioned against the wall on the other side of the room. Both children climbed up beside her. "Did I ever tell you about this one time when your daddy and Uncle Phil were little?" The children shared a glance and grinned at each other mischievously. Like most children, they loved hearing stories about their parents getting in trouble when they were their age, and their grandmother had an endless supply of them.

Father Jeffrey led a short prayer service and shared a story or two of his own of the two Dwyer brothers before the first of the family and friends began to arrive.

The next hours were a seemingly never ending stream of not only family and friends of the Dwyers' but at least half the town turning out to pay their respects to their fallen hometown hero. The baseball team from Phil's high school came as a group and in uniform. The coach had just started his first year as a teacher and assistant coach in Phil's freshman year and shared stories of his own. The mayor came. The city council came. There was even a state senator, who was much more interested in being seen by as many people as possible during an election year than actually expressing his condolences to the grieving family and shamelessly worked the crowd as if it was a fundraiser.

Edward made a mental note to make very large contributions to his opponents' campaigns.

The afternoon was exhausting for Bella. Tonight, Edward decided, if she didn't sleep well enough on her own, he was insisting she take one of the pills Carlisle had prescribed for her.

On the other side of the room, an uncle of Phil's drew Edward's attention. He was speaking to Charlie, Tanya, and Alice, inviting them back to their house after the viewing. More food than they could possibly eat had been sent to the Dwyers' house, and the family was having a small private gathering. It was a considerate offer and kindly meant, but they all knew being surrounded by more strangers was the last thing that Bella would want. They all knew how uncomfortable being the center of attention made her, and for the last few hours that was exactly what she had been. People had been casting glances her way and whispering about her all afternoon, and it had been only his and his family's continual presence at her side that had kept them mostly at bay.

Most of the whispers were kind and well-intentioned; they wanted to talk to her, offer her their sympathy. They wanted to make her feel included, not like an outsider. But she was an outsider. These people, goodhearted as they were, were not her family, not her friends. Most had never even met her before today. And although most people's whispered words were compassionate, there were those whose hushed voices gossiped maliciously about the age difference between her mother and their cousin or nephew or friend, or whatever their relationship to Phil had been, and jealously speculated whether _she_ would be the one to inherit whatever money there may be from Phil's baseball contract instead of his _real family _and just _how much _money that might be.

Bella leaned heavily against him, his handkerchief gripped loosely in her hand, and sighed. "How much longer?"

"Not long, love. It's almost over. Phil's uncle is talking to your father and Tanya. He's invited us all back to their house afterward."

Bella groaned and then looked around anxiously. Relieved that it didn't appear she'd been overheard, she sagged in her seat. "We don't have to go, do we?"

Edward kissed her temple. "No, love. Charlie thanked him but said he wanted to get you back to the hotel to rest. He told him you hadn't been sleeping well and were exhausted."

As if on cue, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Thank you, Dad."

People soon began leaving, and eventually the funeral director skillfully ushered out the last few stragglers and gave the family privacy to say good-bye.

Bella stood beside her mother's casket, her breath catching in her throat as she fought her tears. Pain twisted her face. "I'm never going to see her again. Oh, God, I'm never going to see her again." Giving in to her tears, she turned, and Edward wrapped his arms around her. There was nothing he could say that would help her, and he wisely didn't try.

Looking back at her mother, Bella whispered, "I can't say good-bye. I can't. I don't know how."

"It's OK, love. Take your time. There's no rush."

Bella looked over her mother's body—her hands were clasped together, her hair and makeup were exactly as she normally wore them, the soft pink sweater she wore had been purchased for her by Phil's sister-in-law, but it was something she would've picked out for herself. She looked like herself, but at the same time she didn't. She looked peaceful, calm. But she didn't look as if she was merely sleeping. There was no mistaking that the softness and the warmth that Bella would always associate with her mother were gone. The spark was gone; the light was gone. Her mother wasn't there anymore. Wherever she was, Bella hoped she knew that she loved her.

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I'm sorry posting has been so irregular lately. Hopefully, after Christmas I should be able to get back on schedule.

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I'm in the running for two awards, and I hope you'll vote for me! _I remain, Yours_ is in the running for **BEST REC'D WIP OF 2012 **on Rob Attack—and December 21st isn't just the last day of the world, more importantly, it's the last day of voting! So please go vote! You can vote on Rob Attack at:

kwiksurveys dot com/app/showpoll dot asp?qid=55916&sid=bw70jnzqfz4cubs55916&new=True

The winners will be announced on December 28th.

Also, I've been nominated for **BEST BREAKTHROUGH AUTHOR** on the first annual Fandom Choice Awards! Voting is now through January 3rd. You can vote at:

esurveyspro dot com/Survey dot aspx?id=58beeffb-a07a-4850-9226-50f6de4b59f1

Winners will be announced on January 9th.

I didn't think I could post any kind of a link, but I've seen others do it like this, so I hope it's OK. You just need to take out the blanks spaces and replace the "dot" with a "."

There are loads of great stories on both sites, so go check them out! (And vote, of course!)

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I hope you liked the chapter. It was a very emotional one, I know. Drop me a review and tell me what you thought!


	43. Chapter 43

Yipee! Look at this—it's Saturday, and I'm posting the next chapter! Wahooooo! Updates should be back to regular now, thank you all for your patience! And I have great news! The winners of the Best Rec'd on FanFiction Fridays 2012 are posted on Rob Attack, and _I remain, Yours_ was voted Number One WIP! I'm so excited, I'm driving my family nutty. Thank you all who voted so very much and congratulations not only to all the winners, but to everyone who puts so much time and effort into writing their stories—a great big round of applause to everyone!

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and Arones, who filled in for SecretlySeverus while she's on vacation.

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Saturday morning two weeks after the deaths of her mother and Phil, Bella came downstairs late, since there was no reason whatsoever to get up early, and stared out the kitchen window to the woods beyond their backyard, thinking about the first moment moving to Forks had occurred to her. It had been those trees that had said home to her. They'd almost called to her. She had been doing a lot of thinking these past two weeks. She'd had plenty of time to think. Being forced to wait idly while they knew Victoria was out there and not knowing where she was or what she was planning was wearing on everyone as the days passed.

Tensions were running high, not just within themselves but at school as well. Everyone was on edge, anxious to deal with the threat facing them, but it was the hardest of all on Jasper, who had not only his own frustration and need to take charge and hunt Victoria down to contend with but everyone else's as well, and the entire school seemed to be influenced by his mood. Several fights had broken out. Even the teachers were not immune. Some couples had fought and split up. Others, like Angela and Ben, had been affected differently. It had been his loving and protective emotions rather than his aggression that had affected them most, and they had finally worked up the nerve to ask the other out, each talking over the other, both asking and answering before laughing together and sharing their first kiss.

Bella smiled, thinking that at least something good had come out of all this. She grabbed some leftover pizza and ate it cold with a can of soda for breakfast.

Everyone had a job to do to prepare for the upcoming battle with Victoria and her army. Everyone, that was, but her. In addition to meeting regularly with the wolves to strategize and train to fight _with_ instead of _against_ each other, Edward and his family were also monitoring an almost two hundred mile radius all around Forks for any evidence that unknown vampires had been in the area. Combined with having to keep up appearances at school and the hospital and keep themselves fed, there wasn't much time left over. They were gone for several hours at a time, meaning Edward was gone for several hours at a time, which left Bella with nothing but time on her hands, time she spent thinking.

And brooding. There was a good amount of brooding mixed in with all the thinking.

And worrying.

More than anything, she was afraid. Edward continually reassured her there was nothing to worry about; they would all be fine. She knew he believed it, but he'd said that before and had been wrong. What if someone in his family was in danger? Would he risk himself again, as he had when he'd held little Charlie in his arms all night? She knew he would, and her stomach turned.

She knew the numbers were expected to be on their side, but what if they were wrong? What if Victoria's newborns had talents they didn't know about? She'd pressed him for more information, and Edward had told her about some of the others of their kind they knew and considered allies, if not friends, in spite of their different diets. Their abilities were terrifying. What if they came up against vampires like those he'd told her about? Vampires with not only their newborn strength but the ability to make someone see any illusion they wanted, to project the image directly into their minds so that the illusion was all they could see. Edward had said it could take years, sometimes decades, to really control a gift, but he'd also told her he'd heard Carlisle's thoughts immediately after awaking from his change.

Bella dropped the half-uneaten slice of pizza in the garbage and returned to the window.

With the Cullens away, the wolves were patrolling in and around Forks. The Cullens were searching by scent, but Victoria and her army would have to be traveling by foot to leave a scent. They could drive right past them in stolen cars without giving themselves away.

Bella knew Jacob was out there somewhere, but, unsurprisingly seeing as their last meeting had been such a colossal disaster, she had not seen him even once. Sadly, Bella had to accept that that bridge was well and truly burnt.

Sighing, she looked into the dining room. Even her father had a job to do. He sat, slumped forward, at the dining room table, which had become a sort of command central, his elbows on the table and his forehead in his hand. There was a map of the entire region spread out and marked with different colored pins identifying either a person who had been reported missing or killed. It looked very official. There were a surprising number of pins already, but so far none matched the profile they were looking for, which was only to be expected since a large part of the profile they were looking for was a victim who would not be likely to be noticed or reported to be missing.

Her father was exhausted. Monitoring and attempting to track and find a pattern in missing persons and homicide reports from all over the state of Washington and further all day, every day, after working at the station was wearing on him. After pouring him a new cup of coffee and setting it on the table, Bella stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders. "How's it going?" she asked.

He sighed and looked back at her, frowning and covering her hand with his own. "Nothing solid."

"Dad, you're beat. You need to take a break. How much sleep did you get last night?"

Charlie picked up a missing person report and spoke as much to himself as to her. "Runaway outside of Spokane. Could be a possibility. Had been thought to have taken off with a boyfriend the parents disapproved of. Except the local police interviewed the boyfriend. He says he hasn't seen her, and his story checks out. He was where he said he was. Missing over two days. Cell phone hasn't been used."

"That doesn't answer my question." He rubbed his eyes and squeezed her hand. "Have you at least eaten anything?" she asked.

"I ate." Picking up his coffee and leaning back in his chair, he asked her what she had planned for the day.

Bella knew he was changing the subject. "Nothing much," she answered. "Just hanging out. Thinking." That last part she hadn't meant to say out loud; it had just slipped out.

"Thinking? About what?" her father asked.

Trying to act casual, Bella shrugged her shoulder. "Nothing special. Junior year's almost up. Gotta settle on a college soon." In truth, nothing could've been further from her mind, and she was afraid her real thoughts would be written all over her face. "They say the sun may come out. Think I'll go for a walk." Bella hurried out of the room and grabbed her rain jacket just in case the weather man was wrong, which had been known to happen one or two—or ten or twenty—times in the past. "Just down the path a bit."

"Bells…."

She hollered back to her father as she hurried out the back door. "I know. I know. I'll be careful."

In addition to her rain jacket, Bella had also grabbed a small notebook and a pen and slid them into her coat pocket. Since her mother's funeral, one thought had preoccupied her mind above all others, and it was time, while she had the privacy before Edward returned this afternoon, to give it more serious thought both for and against.

As she crossed the yard, Bella looked up at the sky. It had rained off and on last night, but now the clouds were thinning, and it was starting to look like they might indeed see some sun today. It was still chilly, however, and she pulled her jacket on as she walked. She entered the woods and followed the path for several minutes before finding and sitting down on a fallen trunk that made a sort of natural bench. The trunk was wet from last night's rain, and she took her jacket off to sit on.

Dropping her head into her hands, Bella sighed. As she stared at the ground lost in thought, she noticed something. Puzzled, she cocked her head to the side before reaching down and pushing away the dirt and debris mostly covering what looked like a piece of once white fabric. Bella gasped and sat up with a square of cotton in her hand. The once royal blue embroidery had faded, and the white was now dingy and dirty. She traced her finger along the initials. E.A.M.C. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen.

Her eyes fell shut. Was this were she'd fallen and hit her head in February then? Bella tried to remember. She'd tried to remember that afternoon more than once, but it had been no use. After sitting in her room with his handkerchief and wondering about his full name, everything was a blank until she woke up on the ground in their backyard with Edward and Jacob leaning over her in a state of panic, and even after that her memory was spotty.

_Is this what it's like for Edward? Not being able to remember his human life? He knows he did something, but can't actually remember doing it._ She shivered. _Is that normal? Alice and Tanya never mention their human lives either. Is it normal to forget everything? To just forget ever being human? It would make sense. Much easier to not remember ever being the same as your dinner._

After brushing off as much dirt as she could, she slid the handkerchief into her pocket and pulled out the notebook and pen. It was time to think. Opening the notebook, Bella made a heading on the top of the page and made two columns below it for _pros_ and _cons_. Biting her lip, she tapped the pen against her jaw before beginning to write.

In no time at all, she had several _pros_ and only a few _cons_—and the _cons_ she did have were questions, uncertainties. They could be _pros_ or _cons_ depending on the answer.

Still biting her lip, Bella looked around her. All she could see in any direction were trees. _Can't see the forest for all the trees._

Looking back down at her list, she sighed. She needed answers to her questions, but getting them would be difficult. They weren't exactly questions she could just slip into conversation casually.

A breeze rustled through the trees, disturbing several birds and showering her with the droplets of water that had collected on the leaves. All around her was still and quiet, and she looked again at her list. She had a decision to make.

A sudden, soft, scampering noise to her left startled her, and she turned toward it. She couldn't see anything at first, but after a few seconds a rapid movement low to the ground caught her eyes, and she smiled. "Hey there little guy. Aren't you just adorable?" A small rabbit sat there staring up at her, its little nose twitching. With its grey and tan speckled fur, it was so well camouflaged that had it not moved, she'd never have seen it. "I'm sorry I don't have a carrot to give you. Actually, I don't know if you even eat carrots. I don't imagine Bugs was strictly accurate."

Without taking her eyes off the small animal, Bella felt with her hand for her other jacket pocket. She was pretty sure she'd left her cell phone in this jacket yesterday after school, and she was right. Her fingers closed around her phone, and holding it up in front of her, she snapped several pictures of the little guy before its ears twitched, and it turned its head. It had heard something which spooked it, and a second later the little creature bolted away through the underbrush.

Bella smiled as she looked at the pictures on her phone. _Pictures on my phone…. _A thought occurred to her, and she dropped her head into her hands, laughing out loud. "Oh, my God. _Why_ didn't I think of that then?"

It started as an amused chuckle, but soon, Bella was doubled over in fits of laughter. She hadn't laughed in weeks, hadn't had anything _to_ laugh about, and it felt good. She still had moments when something would remind her of her mother and tears would fill her eyes, and part of her felt wrong for laughing now, that it was too soon, but she couldn't stop. Trying to picture Edward's reaction was just too funny.

She was so lost to her laughter that she never heard Edward approach, and when he put his hand on her shoulder, she jumped and knocked her notebook off the fallen tree trunk.

"Edward!" She threw her arms around him and kissed him, speaking against his lips. "You're back early. I'm so glad you back early. I was just thinking about you."

"I was thinking about you, too."

"I saw a rabbit. Look." Handing him her phone, Bella pressed her face against his chest, thrilled to have him back a few hours earlier than she'd expected.

"Very nice. But not very funny. What were you laughing about?" Bella started laughing again and couldn't talk for several seconds. "I was just…. I was just…. I was looking at the pictures I took, and I was just…." It was no good. Trying to get the words out, she pictured it again in her head and was lost. She sat back down gasping for air and trying not to laugh.

Edward sat down next to her. "It's cold. You should have your coat on."

"It's not that bad. The trunk was wet."

Standing up and taking his sweater off, Edward motioned for her to stand up and replaced her jacket with his sweater on the fallen trunk. As Bella was sliding her arms through the sleeves of her coat, Edward said, "You dropped something."

Bella looked where Edward indicated, and her eyes widened. Her hand darted out, and she grabbed the notebook just before Edward did and slipped it in her pocket. "It's nothing." Thankfully, it had fallen with her list facing down. Her plan to break the news that she knew who and what he was to him gently had failed spectacularly. This conversation had to go better. It absolutely had to. "Grocery list."

"Grocery list?"

"Mhm."

"You came all the way out here to write out a grocery list?"

"Mhm."

"A little odd isn't it?"

"What can I say? I'm quirky."

"Quirky?"

"Mhm."

Edward was amused. "You're a rotten liar. That's what you are."

"OK OK. I give. It's a Christmas list."

"So, you came all the way out here—in May, no less—to write to Santa?"

"No, silly. It's a list of what to buy for who. So you can't see it. Oh, speaking of giving, I have something for you." She pulled the ruined handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him. "I found it. Right there." Bella pointed out where she'd seen the corner peeking out from under the debris. Edward looked stricken at the unexpected reminder of her accident, and her voice sounded very small as she asked, "Is this where you found me? Is this where I fell?"

Edward stared silently at the handkerchief before speaking. "No." He paused before continuing, "No. You'd run off the path and into the trees."

"Run off the path? Why would I have done that?"

"It was my fault."

"Edward, don't—"

"No. Bella, it was. It was my fault." He lowered his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Tanya called me. She said you'd just run out of the house and down the path through the woods. She said you were very upset, but she didn't know why. She wanted to know if I wanted her to follow you, but I said no. I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. I… panicked. I ran from the house and ran straight here. I was hidden up in the trees. Jacob…. Jacob was here too; someone from the pack was always nearby when either Charlie or you were home with Tanya. We were both watching you.

"_Upset._ God, Bella. You were completely hysterical. You… collapsed onto this trunk. You were crying so hard you could barely breathe. You were stomping your feet and pounding your hands on the ground. You cut your hand on a rock and picked it up and threw it against a tree. You… were screaming. You…. My name. You were screaming my name. That really infuriated Fi… sorry, Jacob. He was livid. He thought I'd done something to hurt you. I told him I had no idea what was wrong, but of course, he didn't believe me.

"When you finally started to calm down, you wiped your face." He held up the dirty handkerchief. "You…. You sat there, tracing my initials with your finger. You said, 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.' You looked up at the sky and said, 'If you ever come across Alfred, Lord Tennyson up there, do me a favor and punch him in the face.' I understood what you meant, but Jacob didn't have any idea, and he was growing more and more agitated.

"All of a sudden, you started looking around like you didn't know where you were. You were starting to panic. Your heart was beating faster and faster. And it was starting to get darker. Jacob was pacing back and forth. I was still in the trees above you. I jumped down. I was going to come out onto the trail near you and pretend I'd come looking for you. Jacob had the same idea. He hadn't wanted to phase in front of me at first, but the more obviously scared you became, the more he felt he had no choice.

"I stepped on a fallen branch, and you must've heard it snap because you looked exactly where I was hidden, crouched down low. Your eyes started darting around wildly. You didn't see me—at least, I don't think you did. But I think you did see Jacob. You looked like you tried to scream but couldn't."

"Why would I scream because I saw Jake? Oh. I saw Jake, but he wasn't… himself."

Edward nodded. "You turned and ran. I ran after you, but I didn't get to you in time. I had to run too slowly. You tripped and fell and… and hit your head."

"Why did you have to run slowly?"

"You've seen how fast I am, Bella. If I had been really running and grabbed you before you fell, I'd've crushed you far worse than any fall could've." He gently ran his fingers along the side of her face. "I have to be so very careful with you, Bella. Always. You can't comprehend just how cautious I have to be with you."

Turning her face, Bella pressed a kiss into his palm. "You'd never hurt me, Edward. I trust you."

"Don't." With the same hand Bella had just kissed, Edward picked up a rock approximately the size of a lemon and held it in the palm of his hand for a second before closing his fingers around it. The rock shattered. "I'd never hurt you purposely, but accidentally…. Bella, I could, in an instant…. If I lost control, just for an _instant_, I could hurt you just as badly as Sam hurt Emily, if not much worse."

He swallowed and let the crushed rock fall from his hand. "The two times… we were… intimate…. Bella, I had no right. What I did, it was unpardonable. Unjustifiable."

"Edward, it was just a couple bruises. It was nothing. It really wasn't a big deal."

"No. Bella, please. I have to say this. You have to understand, to really understand the risk I subjected you to. I…. When I…. When you…. I…." Edward rubbed the back of his neck and squeezed his eyes shut. Covering his closed eyes with his hand, he swallowed several times before continuing. "In my room, I dug my fingers into the floor. I tore the carpet apart. I splintered the sub floor. I ruined Alice and Jaz's headboard. I ripped chunks of wood out of it. I could've…. You're right, Bella. The bruises were nothing. Nothing compared to what could've happened. You're still alive. Both of your arms are still attached. I can't…. I can't ever risk your safety like that again."

Bella's head snapped up, but Edward's eyes were still tightly closed. She didn't say anything, but if he was serious, which she was very afraid he was, she just got a new number one for her _Pro_ list.

No words were spoken between them for what felt like several minutes until Bella broke the silence. "Edward?" Reluctantly, he looked up at her, and she moved onto his lap. "I'm confused. You said 'your room.' But we weren't in your room. I've never been in your room."

He kissed the top of her head. "That is my room."

"But," Bella shook her head in confusion, "there's no bed."

"I don't need one."

"What do you mean you don't need a bed? How could you not need a bed? You're not seriously going to try to tell me you sleep hanging upside down or in a… hanging upside down, because I won't buy it."

Chuckling at her, Edward pressed a long kiss to her forehead. "I don't sleep anywhere," he explained. "I don't sleep at all."

"_What_?"

"We don't sleep. We can't sleep."

"No. You're making that up. Tanya does. She does. She goes to bed every night."

He smirked at her. "Yes, but not to sleep."

Bella cringed. "Oh, God! Please don't ever say that again. That's my _dad_!"

Edward's smirk only grew. "You're not going to pretend you didn't know, are you?"

"No, but _still_…. I don't want to hear you actually _say_ it! Jeez! Dads and… and… and…. _you know_… just _do not _go together."

"Yeah, actually, they do. It's a requirement to get the job, actually."

"Edward!"

"Well, it is. Trust me. I am a doctor, you know."

"Oh, could we _please_ talk about something else?"

He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her nose. "We can talk about whatever you like. You still haven't told me what was so funny."

As soon as the image returned to her mind she smiled widely. "I just thought of it. When I looked at the pictures of the rabbit I took with my phone I thought of it. I was picturing your reaction in 1918 to a cell phone. I sent you pictures of me. I printed them out, but I should've just sent my phone. It's flat enough. It would've fit. I mean, I know it wouldn't have worked, of course. But if it was fully charged, you should still have been able to see pictures stored on it, right?"

Edward's shoulders shook as he laughed. Like Bella, he had had nothing to laugh about for weeks, and the relief of it felt wonderful.

Bella laughed, "I'd have… had to write… out directions." She tried to sound like an old-fashioned school matron, severe, serious, formal, but fought fits of laughter as she spoke. "Number one, Please don't drop it. Number two, Press the button with 'PWR' on it. Number three, If you just dropped it, please pick it back up."

They both laughed, relishing the release it afforded them, as they pictured the scene.

"I am almost glad you didn't," Edward said. "That would be one memory I would really hate to have lost." He wriggled his eyebrows and smirked at her. "And I'm quite sure I was very happy with the pictures you did send me. I got to keep them. The phone I would have had to return." He stroked the back of his fingers across her cheek. "I can only image seeing you for the first time. I'm sure I was rather fond of those pictures. Especially the picture of you in your blue dress."

"You know, the weatherman said the sun should be out this afternoon."

"Mhmm. Alice said."

"Soooo?"

"So what?"

She tickled his stomach. "You know what."

"I have no idea."

"Yes, you do. Come on."

"Bella, what are you talking about?"

"Come on, Sparkles. I wanna see. You promised."

Edward understood now. "I don't recall promising anything."

"It was implied."

"It was, was it?"

"Mhmm."

"You never did tell me how you knew."

"I saw you. In the woods last August. Well, not exactly. I didn't see _you_. All I saw was this… beautiful radiant light. I knew it was _you_. I just didn't know it was you _physically_. I thought it was your spirit. I was so afraid, and then I heard your voice and saw that light, and I knew it was you and the fear was… just gone."

"I remember, you smiled. I could not for the life of me think what you could possibly find to smile about in that situation."

Bella ran her fingers through his hair and around the curve of his ear. "You weren't gone. I hadn't lost you. I needed you, and you came for me."

Edward remembered hearing those very same words that day and the pain he'd felt believing she'd been thinking about, dreaming about, someone else. But now he knew it had been him. It had always been him. Just as it had the very first time, the knowledge overwhelmed him.

Bella must've remembered what she said then too, because she blushed, but refusing to back down, she kissed along the shell of his ear and whispered, "In more ways than one."

Her voice had taken on that deep husky tone it had twice before, and Edward knew he had to stop this now while he was still capable of rational thought. He'd resolved to not make the same mistake a third time. They'd been incredibly lucky that a few bruises were the worst she'd suffered because of his irresponsibility, and as badly as he wanted to be with her, he had no intention of risking her safety again. As much as he wanted to carry her away and be with her again, he simply couldn't risk it. Bella's safety was more important than anything else. With more will power than he ever realized he possessed, Edward took her wrists carefully in his hands. "Bella…."

She'd taken his ear lobe between her teeth and was nibbling it; her only answer was a questioning hum.

She shifted on his lap to straddle him. He almost lost his resolve. His voice sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. "We can't."

"Yes, we can. And I really want to. I want you, Edward."

"I want you, too. Believe me. I want you. But I meant what I said before. I won't jeopardize your safety again." She didn't move, but she did stop. She was still so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. "Bella, please."

Sighing, she sat back slightly, but didn't move from his lap. She looked at him, studying his face, before saying, "It's not just that. There's something more."

She was right. There was more, but he didn't know how she would react. "Bella, I do know what year it is, and I do know what modern attitudes are, but I just…. I still believe there are some things that… belong… between a man… and his wife."

God, Edward couldn't believe how hard that had been to say. He couldn't even look at her. He wanted to see her reaction, but he was afraid to look, and the longer her silence dragged on, the more his anxiety grew. In the world his Bella had grown up in, marriage was largely considered passé, an outdate institution whose time had passed, and with her own personal experience, being the child of divorce, he was afraid her feelings toward marriage would be especially negative.

The minutes of silence dragged on, feeling like hours, until Edward could no longer stand it. "Say something. Please."

Bella opened her mouth but hesitated and closed it again.

He said, "I know people today say it's just a piece of paper, that it doesn't matter. But they're wrong. It does. It matters very much. It's not just a piece of paper. It's standing up in front of everyone you know, everyone you love, and saying this person standing beside you is the most important person in the world to you. It's declaring to the world that this is the person you love and want beside you always. This is the one person you want to spend your life with, to build your life with. It's making a commitment to that person, a vow, that you will honor and cherish her for the rest of your life, that no matter what happens, you will be there for her. You will love each other and support each other and take care of each other. It's promising to be faithful to her. It's saying to the entire world that this girl belongs to you. That you belong to her. She is…. She is a part of you, and you are part of her. It is saying to everyone that from that moment on you are one with her. I don't know how I ever existed without you, Bella, but I know that I never really lived until I found you, until you found me. It's not just a piece of paper." Edward played with a strand of hair before tucking it behind her ear. "I wish you could understand."

Mesmerized, tears forming behind her eyes, Bella murmured, "I do." Realizing the words she'd spoken, she cleared her throat. "I do understand."

Edward could hear the unspoken words carried in her apologetic tone. She understood his point of view; she just didn't agree with it. Neither met the other's eyes. Edward was staring at the ground. Bella was looking straight ahead but not appearing to see a thing.

She slid her hand into her pocket and pressed it against the notebook she'd written her list in. She took a deep breath. There would never be as good an opportunity as this, she thought. Edward had his idea of commitment, and she had hers. "Edward?"

"Please, don't say anything. I hadn't planned on… going on like that."

"You've been thinking about that for a while, haven't you?"

He nodded his answer. "Since the moment I realized I loved you. Since the first time I saw you with my own eyes, sitting there reading. How could anyone look so innocent and so… alluring… enticing… at the same time?" He played with her hair. "You're a mystery to me, Miss Isabella Swan."

Bella couldn't allow herself to be sidetracked. Edward had given her the perfect opportunity to bring up what she wanted to discuss, and she couldn't allow it to be wasted. "You've been thinking about it all this time. But you never said anything."

The depth of longing in his eyes took her breath away. "Nothing in this world could ever make me happier than to see you on your father's arm, wearing a long white dress, and walking down the aisle toward me." His voice was filled with such awe that, just for a moment, Bella could almost picture the scene herself. She'd never envisioned herself getting married, mostly, she now believed, because she'd never been able to imagine trusting someone that much, giving someone that much power to hurt her. But she did trust Edward. She trusted him just as she loved him—completely.

"But I know you don't feel the same way," Edward said quietly.

"I do love you."

"I know. And I love you."

Bella bit her lip. "I've been thinking about something, too." He looked at her and waited for her to continue, but she struggled to find the right words. "I was thinking about it before you arrived actually. I've been… thinking about it… a lot for the past couple weeks." Sliding off his lap to sit beside him, reluctantly, anxiously, Bella pulled her small notebook out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"You mean it's not your Christmas shopping list? You lied to me? I'm shocked. And you said it so convincingly, too." All sign of amusement fell from his face the instant his eyes looked down at the list she'd written out. Written across the top of the page were the words: Becoming a Vampire. Beneath that were two columns: _Pros_ and _Cons_.

"No."

"Edward—"

"I said, no. Absolutely not."

"But why? Why are you so against me becoming like you?"

"Why am I…? Bella, you cannot possibly be serious."

"I'm very serious. Why are you so against it?"

He stood up angrily and paced back and forth in front of her. "Why would I be against it? There are too many reasons to list."

"Try."

"Bella, no. _Please_. Don't ever think about it again. _Please_."

The desperation in his voice was nearly enough to make her give in, but she couldn't. They had to have this discussion. She was so afraid of the answer, forcing herself to ask the question was nearly impossible. "Is it really that bad?"

Trying to find a way to make his mate understand, Edward looked away before speaking. "It's…. We're on the outside, always. Always wishing you could do more than look in but knowing it can never happen. Always wishing you could build something, become something… just _do_ something. I don't want this for you."

"What _do_ you want for me?"

"Everything. Everything."

"You _are_ my everything, Edward."

"No. Bella, no. No, I'm _nothing_. I'm not even really _alive_. I don't… I can't…. I can't give you the things you deserve."

"The only thing I want you to give me is you."

"You're so young, Bella. So young. There is so much out there for you. You can do anything, be anything. I will never be anything but this. I'll never do anything. I will always be frozen at this. I'll never move forward. Never achieve anything, never become anything."

"I'm the same age you were. I'm the same age you were, and you knew what you wanted. You knew the risks. Working at the hospital the way you did, you knew the risks of enlisting to fight in the war better than almost anyone, but you intended to do it anyway. And once the epidemic hit you chose to go in to the hospital, day after day, going out in the city going into homes where people were sick…. You knew the risk you were taking, but you chose to do it anyway.

"I've been thinking about this a lot, Edward. It's not something that just popped into my head. I know what I want. I want whatever keeps me with you. I don't care what that is. I don't care if I have to become a vampire. If it's what I need to do to be with you, then it's what I want."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You would lose everything."

"What everything do you think I'll lose? I'll have you. That's all I want."

"You would lose your life! Nothing matters more than that. Nothing."

"What life? Edward, can't you see? You are my life. You always have been, from the moment I put that first letter in the drawer. When I thought…. When I thought you… you died… I stopped living."

The sudden reminder of what his beautiful Bella had gone through last summer combined with the words written on the page that had burned themselves into his mind were too much for him. Edward wrapped his arms around himself and doubled over; his eyes were squeezed shut, and he knelt to the ground.

"Edward!" Bella ran to him and wrapped protectively him in her arms. "Edward, what is it? What's wrong?" Had something happened? Bella worried. Had he heard something?

"You were so… pale… so weak. I was so afraid. I wanted so badly to help you, but there was nothing I could do. No one knew what had happened. No one knew what was wrong. I thought…. I thought… if I could hear your thoughts, I could tell them what was wrong. But I was useless. The one thing I could do for you, and I couldn't do it. Jasper drove past your mother's house with Carlisle. He could tell you were in tremendous pain. I had hoped…. I had hoped that if I could hear your thoughts, we could learn why, and Alice could see if whatever plan the doctors came up with would help. But I couldn't hear a thing. I didn't know if it was just because you took after your father, or if…."

"Or if what?"

"Or if…." Edward broke down. "If… there was… nothing… left… to hear. If whatever had happened, if whatever you'd been through was so traumatic…. All I could see through Tanya's eyes was the strongest, most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, lying there like an empty, broken shell. You don't know what evil, sadistic people there are out there. If someone had hurt you…."

"You could see me through Tanya's eyes? In her thoughts? Wait. You were there? In Phoenix?"

"Of course I was there. You needed me. Where else would I be?"

Bella kissed his cheek and laid her head down on his shoulder. She hesitated before returning to their discussion. "Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?"

"You know." She traced her finger along where she knew one of his scars was hidden beneath his long sleeved t-shirt. "Being bitten."

"Bella…." His tone was pleading. He clearly did not want to discuss this.

She hated upsetting him, but they needed to have this discussion. "You were bitten six times. Is that normal?"

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, not saying a word.

"I can talk to Tanya or Alice, if you'd rather."

"What I'd rather is that you gave up this insane idea."

"Edward, you said it yourself. You're always having to be so careful around me. You're so afraid of accidentally hurting me. It would fix that problem. I'd be like you. We'd be equals." Bella looked away. "And I don't want to end up like my mom and Phil."

Edward grabbed her shoulders, and she flinched. He instantly loosened his grip, and Bella resisted the urge to say "I told you so."

"I would never… never let anything happen to you, Bella."

"I know. I know that. That's not what I meant. My mom was a lot older than Phil. People talked. They never let on that they heard, but they had to have. You're always going to look seventeen, but I'm not. I'm going to get older. What are we going to do in a couple years? Pretend I'm still seventeen when I'm twenty-five? What about when we can't do that anymore? Pretend I'm your older sister? Then your aunt? Then your mother? Then your grandmother?"

"Do you really think what you look like will matter to me? I will always love you. It won't matter how old you are, you'll still be you."

"That's not the point, Edward. You said you can't move forward. Do you think I want to move forward without you? And you can't always be there to protect me, no matter how much you want to. You have to hunt sometime."

"Yes, but you'll be with the others then. They'll protect you."

"I don't want to be babysat like a child for the rest of my life! And you can't protect me from everything. How are you going to protect me from getting sick? No matter how hard you try to protect me, it doesn't change the fact that I will die of something eventually. Then what? I won't let you go through what I went through last summer. I won't allow it. If becoming a vampire will protect you from that, then that's what I want."

"Bella…. For however long we have together, I will love you and protect you. When…. When something happens… that I can't protect you from… I'll follow you."

Bella's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

"I won't exist in this world without you. Please don't ask me to try. I had to face that possibility once already, with the bear…. I didn't think I'd make it in time. I'd never even seen you with my own eyes, I'd never heard your voice with my own ears, I didn't know about what we'd shared while I was still human, but even then I knew I loved you. I knew I could never go on existing if you were gone. I already knew there was only one thing I could do."

"Edward Anthony Mason Cullen. You had better not be saying what I think you're saying, because so help me—"

"I've seen what losing their mate does to a vampire, Bella."

"You mean Victoria?"

"No. I wasn't thinking about her, but she is a good example as well. I was thinking about a vampire Carlisle lived with not long after he was changed. His name is Marcus. His mate was killed centuries ago, long before Carlisle met them. I've seen him in Carlisle's mind, in his memories. He just… sits there… staring at nothing. For centuries… he's just sat there, not moving."

With a jolt, Edward realized then that Bella had looked exactly like Marcus last summer. Nothing mattered, nothing registered. All she'd known was her grief, her pain. Like Marcus, she'd eaten what was brought to her, had moved only when absolutely necessary. Nothing had fazed her. Nothing had penetrated her pain. He berated himself; they should've known….

If Edward thought he was helping his cause, persuading Bella to abandon the idea of being changed by reassuring her he wouldn't be alone after her life was over, he could not have been more wrong. What he still failed to understand, no matter how much his family tried to get it through to him, was that even though she was human, Bella's instinct to protect him was every bit as strong as his to protect her. Possibly even more so, because she believed she had failed him once already. Maybe the timing, being only two weeks after her mother's death, made it worse than it would have otherwise been, but his words had the opposite effect from what he'd hoped, to reassure her that they would spend the duration of her life together and then both pass on, that he wouldn't be left behind to the fate she'd already suffered. The rest of her questions no longer mattered. At that moment, Bella's decision was made.

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There you have chapter 43! I hope you liked it! I'm off to get the teaser for chapter 44 submitted to Fictionators - Teaser Mondays, Twi Fic Central - Wednesdays, Twi & VD Fic Recs - Tuesday, and Twilight Fic Zone - Sunday. I will also try to visit the Sneak Peek campfire on A Different Forest on Monday night. It's the same teaser regardless of which site you see it on.

Thank you again for voting for IrY on Rob Attack! Be sure to check out all the other great stories rec'd on FanFiction Fridays, and again, congratulations to all the winners! Voting is open on the Fandom Choice Awards until January 3rd. See you all next Saturday!


	44. Chapter 44

Hangs head and begs forgiveness. I know I said I'd have this up Saturday, and well… it's not Saturday. But I was only one day off, so I hope I'm forgiven.

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and Marly, who filled in for SecretlySeverus while she's on vacation.

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"She's enjoying herself."

Edward and Bella sat together at lunch, listening to Jessica gush about the upcoming prom that weekend. Bella was absently picking at the food in front of her. Even she couldn't help but hear Jessica going on and on about how "totally great and absolutely just freaking fabulous" it was going to be.

"Totally great. Absolutely just freaking fabulous for her," Bella deadpanned. She stabbed a chicken nugget with her plastic fork so viciously that two tines broke.

"I may not be an expert in solid foods, love, but I'm pretty sure it's already dead."

"Very funny."

"Bella, I already said I'm sorry. What more do you want?"

Raising her eyes to him, she answered his question without ever speaking a word.

Edward sighed. "I'm sorry if you're mad, I really am, but your safety is just too important to me to take any chances."

"I want to do something to help."

"Everything's already being taken care of. There's really nothing left to be done but wait."

"Yeah, everything's already taken care of. _By everyone but me. _I have to do something to help. Please, there has to be _something_ I can do. I can't take this, Edward. I can't just sit back and… and… and twiddle my thumbs while you're in danger." Mentally she added, _again_.

"There won't be any danger. I promise. We're making progress working with the pack. Much more than we'd hoped for, actually. We've got some strategies worked out. Victoria and her friends won't know what hit them. They'll have no idea we even know about them, let alone that we'll be waiting for them, working together against them. It'll be over all too soon, in no time all. It will hardly be any fun at all."

"No trouble at all? You promise?"

Edward breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he seemed to be getting through to Bella, to be convincing her there was nothing for her to worry about. By now he really should've known her better. "Yes. I promise, love. What was the expression you used in your letters? Easy breezy."

The corner of Bella's mouth twitched. "Yeah, don't ever say that again."

"Not very manly?"

"Definitely not." Bella lowered her eyes to the table. She had no intention of backing down, but an idea had begun to form in her head, and she needed time to plan. She knew she'd need to carry it out in exactly the right way, at exactly the right time, or it would fail. She felt horribly guilty even just thinking it; it was a dirty, underhanded trick, manipulative and completely unfair, but what Edward had just said was true for her too. His safety was just too important to her. "So, easy breezy, you say? It'll be over all too soon?"

"Yes, exactly. There won't even be enough of them to go around."

Bella had been studying the faux wood grain on the table like there was a secret code hidden in the repeating pattern of swirls and knots, but her head snapped up immediately. Edward had just said the exact words she'd needed. "There won't?"

"Not even close. There, now that we've got that settled, there is another small problem."

Bella nearly collapsed.

Edward hastened to explain. "No. Bella, no. That's not what I meant. I'm sorry. That was a stupid choice of words. It's not a problem. In fact, I've already taken care of it."

"Jesus, Edward. Don't _do_ that!" Bella was trying to calm her wildly beating heart and covered her face with her hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just that I realize I've been very negligent in my duties as a boyfriend. And, if you will allow me, I intend to rectify that this weekend."

Bella's ears perked up. That statement had very definite potential. Edward had been very… resolute… in his intention to not jeopardize her safety or virtue by allowing their intimacies to continue. It was very frustrating. Very. Very. Frustrating. But if he meant what it sounded like he meant, maybe he was having a change of heart. She was afraid to hope and peeked at him through her fingers. Now that she knew how incredible and perfect it was to be with him physically, being without him, without that sense of connection, of completion—not to mention the way he could make her toes curl—was torture. "Is that so?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"It is, indeed."

She licked her lips. God, she wanted him so badly she might just climb across the lunch table and….

"I've been very remiss, and I pray you will forgive me."

"You're forgiven. What did you do?"

"It's what I haven't done. Prom is this weekend and—"

Bella's mouth fell open in shock. Before Edward could continue, she held her hand up to silence him. "_Prom_? You can't be…. You've got to be…. _Prom_? _That's_ what you're talking about? _Prom_?"

"No. Not exactly, but hearing half the school talking about prom made me realize how negligent I've been."

Bella was confused but not willing to abandon hope altogether. If it was the male half of the school he was referring to, their hopes for _after_ prom he was referring to, there might still be hope. "Uh huh. So, just to be clear, you're _not_ asking me to prom?"

"No, I…. That is, unless of course you _want_ to go? I'm sorry, Bella. I heard what you told the other girls, and I thought…. I should've asked you. I didn't think you wanted to go to prom. I should've asked you—"

"No. Edward, stop. I don't want to go to prom. I promise. I really don't."

"You're sure? Because if you do, I'm sure we could still—"

"Edward, stop. I'm completely sure. I don't give a flying rat's ass about going to prom. If I did, I'd have told you, I promise."

Edward laughed. "A what?"

"A flying rat's ass? I'm sorry, Mr. Masen, did I offend you?"

"What you do, my love, is surprise, amaze, and fascinate me endlessly." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I hadn't intended to ask you to prom, but I would like to ask you, formally, on a date. A real date. Dinner, movie, dessert under the stars. Alice said Saturday night will be clear. So, Miss Swan, may I ask for the honor of your company for this Saturday evening?" He kissed the back of her hand and turned it over, pressing a kiss to her palm. "It'll be our own private prom."

His beautiful amber eyes were dazzling in his sincerity. Momentarily forgetting how to speak, Bella nodded her head mutely. On the other side of the cafeteria, Alice squealed. Bella ducked her head and looked up at Edward, apprehensive about what Alice might have planned for her but unable to keep a wide smile off her face. "Alice. I'm in serious trouble, aren't I?"

"Oh, heaps. I'll try to hold her back. Right now, for instance, she's planning which dresses to bring over for you to try on. I promise to limit her to no more than twenty."

"_Twenty_?"

"Well, yes. After all, I would like you to arrive sometime before midnight. One of us needs their sleep."

Picking up her can of soda and taking a drink, Bella kept her eyes on Edward, grateful once again he couldn't read her mind as she thought to herself, _For now._

.

.

"Alice, this really isn't me." Bella looked at herself in her bedroom mirror. She was covered by ruffles in at least twenty different shades of pink. "Can't you just see which one I'll like the best?"

"You have to _decide_ which one you like best, Bella."

Resigned, Bella looked at her reflection again. OK, she was being a little too harsh on the dress. There weren't twenty different shades of pink, only four, and it wasn't actually _covered_ by ruffles—they ran from her right shoulder to under her left arm and then again along the hem of the dress.

She still hated it.

"Why do I have to dress up just to have dinner and watch a movie anyway?"

Alice was exasperated. "Because Jane and Elizabeth Bennett did not show up to the ball at Netherfield wearing jeans and t-shirts."

"Would've if they could've."

Alice looked at Bella for a moment before she spoke. "Bella, sit down." The two girls sat on Bella's bed. "What I mean is…. Tonight is very important to Edward. It's…. He's told me that his mother was on a committee planning a ball to raise money for the Red Cross before the epidemic hit."

Bella nodded her head. He'd written to her about it and learned of it through his letter.

"If you had lived then, if he had found you in Chicago in 1918, he would've fallen in love with you then, and he would've asked to be allowed to escort you to that ball. In a way, tonight is that chance for him, to do now what he couldn't do then."

Bella played with the ruffles on the hem of her dress. "There… there was a dance at my school back in Phoenix. It was girls' choice. I told him about it, but he couldn't believe a girl would ever ask a boy to escort her to a dance. He said he thought I was teasing him. He asked if there was anyone special I wanted to go with, and I said no. I lied. I remember thinking that yes, there was, but that he wasn't there."

"Now, he is."

Bella felt like she was in a dream, like this was one of the dreams she used to have about Edward when she still believed he had died, and she was almost afraid she was going to wake up any second and realize none of this was real. "Yeah. Now he is. That was the first time I dreamed about him."

"So. Humor him and pick out a dress already. If you don't like any of these, I have tons more at home, but _someone _wouldn't let me bring them."

"Alice, can I ask you something?"

"Oh, no. No. Talk to him."

"But—"

"No. Bella, I know what you want to ask. Talk to him."

Bella stood up and paced. "I can't. I tried. I tried the other day. He refused to even talk about it. He just said, 'No. Absolutely not.' Like it was his decision and his alone. Like I had no say. Like I had no vote. Dammit, Alice!"

Alice sighed. "I'll talk to him."

Bella leaned back against her closet door. "Thanks."

Alice hopped up off the bed like her beautiful-little-butterfly-on-speed self and returned her attention to the dresses she'd brought. "Now, this one, I think, will look stunning on you."

"Ugh, Alice, no. Please, no more pink." Pink was… had been her mother's favorite color, and trying on all these dresses, with Alice being so happy and enthusiastic, was too painful a reminder of their shopping trip to pick out Bella's dress for the wedding. That shopping trip was just one more thing Bella regretted. Why had she been so impatient? Why couldn't she just have let her mother have her fun and tried on every stupid dress in the whole stupid store? It was just one day, one afternoon. Why couldn't she have just played along and made her mother happy?

"Oh, but it's not pink. It's coral. It's a totally different color." Alice turned from the definitely-not-pink dress back to her only human friend. The look of heartbreak that had suddenly appeared on Bella's face was overwhelming. "Bella? Hey, what's wrong? If this is about that pig-headed, know-it-all brother of mine, I promise, I'll talk to him. I'll have Jaz and Emmett hold him down while I talk to him if I have to."

A small chuckle escaped Bella's lips, and she wiped a stray tear away. "It's not that. But I'll keep the offer in mind." Bella sat back down on her bed and picked up her pillow. Alice joined her. "Alice, can I ask you something? Something else, I mean. It's personal. Please feel free to say no."

"Of course, Bella, you can ask me anything."

"Do you…. Do you remember your human life? Do you remember your parents? Is it normal to not remember anything at all from… before?"

Alice hesitated before inhaling deeply. "No. No, it's not."

"It's only Edward, then?"

"It's only Edward. Carlisle blames himself terribly."

"If I…. If I _were_ to… be changed—I know you can't, _won't_, tell me what you've seen, which is totally unfair by the way, seeing as how it is _me_ after all—but if I _were_… to be changed… you don't think I'd forget my mom?"

Alice exhaled and spoke nearly too quickly for Bella to understand. "Edward will be furious with me for even just saying this much." Slower, she said, "Usually… human memories are… fuzzy… but they're not completely lost, especially not right away. They fade away more and more if you don't think about them, but if you think about them enough, you retain them. Unfortunately, just like when you're human, the things you most want to forget are the things you seem to dwell on the most." There was real pain in Alice's voice as she spoke.

"Alice?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. It's fine if you don't want to talk about whatever it is, but it's not nothing."

Alice reassured her friend. "Another time. Not today. Not before your big date. Now, it's getting late, and we still haven't settled on a dress, then there's your hair and makeup. No pink…." Alice trailed off as she threw elite designer dresses aside like they were old rags before suddenly straightening up. "Oh." A smile lit up her face. "Oh, he'll _love _it. It's _perfect_."

"What is?"

"Right, I'll just take these back to the car later," she said, dismissing the $20,000 pile of silk.

"What's perfect? Alice?"

Alice walked to the closet and pulled a garment bag that had been shoved in the back corner out from behind everything else. "Hmmm. It'll need some freshening up. It probably looks like it's been rolled up in a ball."

"Oh. Alice, I don't… I don't know." Bella was eying the bag in Alice's hand like she was afraid of it.

"Do you like any of these dresses better?"

"No, but—"

"Have you ever even worn a dress you liked better?"

"No, but…." Bella cringed. "I don't know, Alice."

"Try it on. See what you think when you've got it on. Say no then, and it's no, but just try it on."

Bella could've kicked herself. Why had she let the thought even enter her head? She should've known better than to consider something, no matter how briefly, with Alice around. She supposed it had been Alice herself who had put the thought into her head in the first place, talking about thinking about things you want to remember so you didn't lose them.

Or had it been when she mentioned thinking the most about things you didn't want to think about at all?

Or had it been the reminder of the first time she'd dreamed about Edward that had made her think about it? In her dream they'd danced together, and she'd been wearing the dress. _Come to think of it, I distinctly remember I couldn't feel his heartbeat. And he told me I would find him; he told me he'd be waiting. How odd. Like part of me already knew. The rest of me wasn't ready, but part of me already knew we would be together, even before the epidemic hit. _

Alice had unzipped the bag and was holding her blue dress from her mother's wedding in front of her. "Hm… Not nearly as bad as I feared. Definitely doable."

Seeing the dress again knocked the breath out of Bella, her and gasped for air, but seeing it again also made the corners of her lips curve upwards, into a smile. Once she'd stepped into it and Alice zipped it up, seeing it on again made her smile widen. Spinning around as she had when she'd first tried it on, Bella told Alice how much her mother had liked how it floated around her when she did that. "I don't know, though," Bella said. "It's a mess. I couldn't bear to see it when the things from their house arrived, and I just crammed it in the back of the closet. I should've taken better care of it." Bella sounded like a chastised child.

"It'll be fine. I promise. You leave it to me, and it'll be good as new. Now hurry up, go get your shower. Leave this to me."

Good to her word, when Bella reentered her room after showering, her dress hung on the back of the door in perfect, wrinkle-free condition. Once dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror and spun around, watching her dress float around her as light as air. "I don't know how you did it, Alice, but it's perfect. It looks just like it did… that day."

Her voice only broke slightly, but it was enough for Alice to catch. "All good?" she asked.

"All good."

"Because if not, I've still got a couple dozen more you could try on."

"No. No. Good. It's good. It's better than good. I don't know how you did it. It's perfect."

"If the question 'How many vampires does it take to steam iron a dress in under ten minutes?' is ever on Jeopardy, the answer is 'Three.'"

"I'll be sure to remember that."

"Are you ready?"

Bella took one last look at herself in the mirror. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good, because that brother of mine is going to drool when he sees you. You don't know how long he sat and stared at the picture you sent him of you in that dress. Esme had to dust him off."

Tanya and Esme were waiting downstairs and oohed and ahhed over her for several minutes. Charlie looked as proud as any father ever could. By the time they finally got to the Cullens' house, Alice could hear her brother impatiently pacing back and forth across the front porch. She'd been particularly careful to not think about Bella in any way since they left her father's. She wanted her brother to be surprised—a rare treat for him. _Calm down, Edward. We're almost there. We're not even late. Oh, and by the way, she's breathtaking. _

"She always is."

_Close your eyes. _

"Alice—"

_Close them, or I'll turn around and take her back home. I want you to be surprised. _

"Alice—"

_Just do it, Edward. It'll spoil the effect if you see her before she gets out of the car._

Sighing in resignation—and knowing Alice would make good on her threat—Edward closed his eyes. "Just hurry up, will you?"

_Oh, keep your pants on. At least until later, that is. _

"Alice..."

Alice laughed at the frustration in her brother's voice ,both out loud and in her head. _Think I'll go find Jaz after I drop her off. All that unresolved sexual tension rolling off of you has its upside, you know. OK, we're here. Keep. Your. Eyes. CLOSED until I say you can open them. Is that clear?_

Edward had been counting down the seconds until they would arrive since the moment he heard his sister's thoughts. It felt to him like they'd been on the driveway to their house for over an hour, but in reality it was only four minutes and thirty-eight point six seconds, give or take.

He heard the car on the gravel in front of the house and had to hold onto the railing on the porch to keep himself from going to her. Not that the railing would've stopped him, but Esme would've set him on fire if he ripped half of the porch apart.

He felt the wood start to splinter under his fingers when the car door opened, letting Bella's scent wash over him, and he forced himself to relax his grip.

"OK. Open your eyes," Alice said.

"Bella…." His mate had always been beautiful, always, but now standing in front of him, wearing the blue dress he was sure he'd fantasized about as a human as much as he knew he had as a vampire, she was nothing short of exquisite. Not bothering with the stairs, with one leap Edward was over the railing and across the lawn to where the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen was waiting for him.

_For him_. He couldn't make himself believe this incredible girl loved _him_.

She smiled and laughed, and stepping willingly into his arms, she stretched up to kiss him at exactly the same moment he leaned down to kiss her.

"You are so beautiful," Edward said.

"You don't look so bad yourself, mister."

Edward was formally dressed in a black three-piece suit, and his wild bronze hair was slicked back, similar to how it had been in the photograph he and his human parents had posed for. Bella ran her fingers along the edge of his lapel. "Very nice."

He laughed. "What, this old thing? Had it lying around for years. Come on, come see around back."

As excited as a small boy on Christmas morning, Edward led her around the path on the side of the house to the backyard, which he had transformed into a starlit paradise.

"Oh!" Bella exclaimed.

He smiled at her as her eyes took in all the work he had done. "I wanted to give you the stars."

And he had. Thousands of twinkling white Christmas lights glittered in the night and shone all over the deck and yard. A small table, set for one, was strewn with rose petals and set in the middle of the patio. The railings on the deck were draped with swags of flowers. Soft music was playing from concealed speakers.

"Do you like it?" Edward asked.

"Yeah, I guess it's OK. Are you kidding, Edward? It's fantastic. It's beautiful. I love it. Did you do all this? The lights, the flowers?"

"All me. The music is me too. I recorded it for you. The CD is yours."

"Edward…." Bella slid her hands down his chest and stood on her toes to stretch up to kiss him. "Thank you."

"I have one more star for you." Taking her hand and leading her to the table, he handed her a black velvet jewelry box. "It belonged to my mother." Bella looked at it apprehensively, remembering Edward's words about marriage. "Edward—"

"It's a necklace. Open it."

Realistically, Bella had known it wasn't the right size to be a ring box, but she wasn't sure how she felt hearing that it was a necklace, relieved or disappointed, and the realization surprised her.

Lifting the lid, her mouth dropped open. "Oh! Edward! It's… _It's beautiful_. But I can't…. It's too much…. I can't accept it."

"We've already had this discussion, Bella. Let's not go through it again, shall we?"

Ignoring her protests, he lifted the necklace off the satin lining. The gold chain consisted of varying sized and shaped delicate gold links in both yellow and rose gold, creating the impression of a thin ribbon of crocheted lace. The centerpiece of the necklace was a long, solid gold plaque of intricate swirls and scrolls, repeating the yellow and rose gold combination from the chain, and from which hung a heart shape stone that sparkled so brilliantly in even the dim light from Christmas lights that it could only be a diamond—a particularly large diamond.

"Edward…."

"Read the inscriptions." He held the necklace out to her, and she tentatively took it from him.

"Edward, I really can't…."

"Just read it. Please?"

Reluctantly, she turned the necklace over. _My dearest Lizzy, my heart with all my love, Edward._ Bella inhaled sharply as tears blurred her vision. "Oh, Edward! Your father…."

"Keep reading. The next one is from me."

Below the century-plus old declaration from the father was a new one from the son. _My dearest Bella, I believe that the heart does go on, Edward. _

"Oh!"

"Now see? You have to accept it. What are the chances I'll ever come across another girl named Bella to give it to?"

As he spoke Edward took the necklace back from her and stepped behind her to fasten it around her neck.

"Edward…"

"My father gave my mother this necklace for their wedding. Or at least, I think he did. She's wearing it in their wedding portrait."

"Oh, Edward!"

"I seem to have reduced you to only being able to say, 'Oh' and 'Edward.' Am I to take it that means you like it?"

"I love it. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Edward's eyes traveled down his mate's neck, across her shoulders, down her arms. He knew what that skin tasted like, what it felt like against him…. Would it really be so bad? So terrible? After everything he'd already done? He'd stolen, lied, cheated…. He'd even killed. After all that, what harm could there possibly be left for him to do to his soul, if he even had one? If all he had already done hadn't dammed his soul—again, if he even still had one—what harm could there possibly be in just giving in? In giving in to what they both wanted?

They were standing so close, he could feel the warmth of her breath. Why would it be so wrong to give in? He could see her blood pulsing just below her delicate skin. She was so fragile, so much more so than she realized, but he could be careful, so careful. Why would it be so wrong?

He wanted her so badly. Didn't he already deprive himself of enough?

The way she was looking at him….

Bella shivered. Edward's mouth had filled with venom, and he had to swallow before he could force himself to speak. "Are you cold?"

"Just a little. I'm fine."

Edward cursed to himself. This…. _This_ was why he couldn't give in. Even while thinking to himself how delicate his beautiful mate was, he'd forgotten to take care of her _again_. She was cold. Of course she was cold. She was human, and for spending any length of time outside, even if it was May, the dress she was wearing was better suited to Phoenix than Washington. "I'm sorry, Bella. I should've realized. I should've known…..We can go inside."

"No, I want to stay out here. Everything you did for me…. It's so beautiful. I don't want to go inside."

"But you're cold."

"It was just a little chill, Edward. I'm fine."

"At least…. Alice has shawls… wraps. Let me get you—"

"Edward, I'm fine."

There was a slight edge to his Bella's voice. It reminded him of when she'd hurt her shoulder, and he'd made too much of a fuss over it. He wouldn't upset her for anything, especially tonight. Tonight he wanted to be perfect, no worrying about insulted adolescent mutts, no worrying about crazy vindictive vampires, no worrying about anything. Tonight, there was no outside world; there was only them. He would have to trust that if she was too cold, she'd tell him.

But, try as she had to fight it off, she'd just shivered again.

"At least…." He took his suit jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. Coming off his cold body, it must feel to her warm skin like it had just come out of meat locker, but she smiled and inhaled deeply as she slid her arms through the sleeves.

"It smells like you," she said.

How was it that even now that her shoulders and arms were concealed from him, standing there wearing his suit coat, she looked even more enticing? Against his will and his better judgment, Edward's mind calculated that, even moving slowly enough to not harm her, he could have her in his room in under six seconds. He swallowed another mouthful of venom.

"I have…" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Dinner."

Bella's eyes widened, and she grasped her throat with both hands.

Horrified, Edward was speechless until the corners of her mouth turned up.

"Bella! That was not funny!"

She giggled. "Yes it was. You should've seen your face." She reached up and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, Edward," Bella whispered into his ear, and he had to swallow the venom that again filled his mouth as her warm breath floated against his skin. "Forgive me?"

For a few moments he couldn't remember what it was he was supposed to be forgiving her for. "Ahhh…. Mmmhmmm…"

"Good. I'm hungry."

His mind chose that moment to point out that if he didn't go through the house and just jumped up to his balcony, he could have her in his room even faster.

It was a struggle to not let himself do just that, but he regained control of himself. "I hope you like dinner. I have no firsthand experience to rely on, but it's all things I've seen you eat or heard you say you liked before. If you would like to sit down?"

Bella accepted the arm he held out, and they walked to the table. Edward held her chair out for her, and she sat down, placing her napkin on her lap. The menu card he'd printed was lying on her plate. She picked it up and arched her eyebrow at him. He'd really gone all out. "Antipasto salad. French onion soup. White pizza. Chocolate flourless torte with chocolate mousse. You know, for a vampire, you've got a future in the culinary arts."

"A vampire restaurateur, almost as unexpected as a vampire surgeon."

They laughed together.

"Stay here. Let me get your first course."

He was back almost before she realized he'd gone, and she blinked several times. "Just, exactly, how fast are you, exactly?"

"Very."

"Ah-ha."

With a flourish, Edward set a large plate of antipasto salad in front of her. "Buon appetito."

It looked and smelled incredible, but there really was an awful lot of it. Something he'd said a moment ago came back to her. _Things he'd seen her eat before_. Oh, God. This was just like the antipasto salad she'd had at that restaurant the day they'd gone to the movies in Port Angeles. It had been antipasto _for two_, but she'd been so hungry, she'd eaten all of it herself. He'd gotten the foods she liked perfect, just his portion sizes were a bit off. As she took her first bite, Bella hoped the white pizza he'd mentioned wasn't a large.

"Is it all right?" he questioned anxiously.

"It's perfect." And it really was. Salami and pepperoni and prosciutto and different cheeses and tomatoes and fresh basil and garlic and tri-color pasta and the dressing was incredible and there were absolutely no God awful olives.

"I'm glad you like it."

Closing her eyes, Bella moaned as she took another bite. "_Where_ did you get this?" Anthony's was good but not even close to this.

"The kitchen?" he responded questioningly.

"_You _made this?"

"Yes. I did everything for tonight, the food included."

Bella stopped eating just for a second and looked at him. "I have got the world's best boyfriend ever. Thank you, Edward."

"Every recipe I found called for olives, but you didn't eat them last time them, so I left them out. I hope that's OK?"

She speared a piece of mozzarella, some fresh basil, and a cherry tomato on her fork. "Oh, God. Seriously, your next time through college, you need to become a chef. This is amazing."

"I'm very glad you like it, but I think I'd rather light myself on fire than work with human food on a daily basis." He looked at her plate and crinkled his face. "I don't understand how you can eat that. It's so… _solid _and… _chunky_."

She held the fork out to him, twirling it teasingly. "Sure you don't want some, then?"

"Very sure."

It was so good, Bella could easily have eaten the entire plate, but she still had soup, pizza, and dessert. She wanted to be able to fit in her jeans tomorrow, so she reluctantly pushed the plate away, telling herself it would be even better tomorrow.

"Ready for the next course?" he asked.

"Mhmmm."

Again, Edward was back almost before she'd realized he was gone—and not a drop of the soup had been spilled. It looked and smelled every bit as good as the antipasto had. This, being here alone with Edward, everything he'd done to make tonight perfect for her, was so much better than prom at the Pacific Inn could ever be.

.

.

"Violet is on the left, then Lillian and Irene."

After Bella had eaten until she was ready to burst, they'd danced under the starlight—both the natural and created. Edward had swept her off her feet and spun around with her, and they'd danced together to all the music he'd composed since she'd come back into his life and inspired him like nothing ever had before. Like the first time, in what she hadn't known at the time was his room, she'd insisted she couldn't dance, but again just like the first time, he'd led, and she'd followed as if she was an extension of him.

Finally, when his suit jacket was no longer enough, they'd come inside. They were in Edward's room at the back of the third floor with the pictures he'd taken as a human and had promised to send to her but had never had the chance. They had to have arrived at his house during his illness and been taken to his room by either Maggie or Nellie, because they'd been amongst the items Carlisle had retrieved for him.

Bella was sitting curled up next to him on his black leather couch, an old photograph of three young women standing in front of a large rose bush in her hands. All three of the women were wearing similarly styled blouses—either white or very lightly colored, she couldn't tell which in the black and white photo—and long, dark skirts reaching almost to their ankles, with dark stockings and shoes. Not much detail could be made out in their blouses, but they appeared to have lace collars of varying styles and widths, and Lillian had a black or dark-colored bow at the point of her collar. "They look so happy, so… innocent. So feminine."

"From Carlisle's memories, they were strong as any man."

"They're beautiful, but they really don't look like how I had them pictured. I didn't realize until I saw what they actually looked like that I had a definite picture of them in my mind, but I did."

She looked over her shoulder at Edward. He was looking at the old photograph with a look of longing on his face. "I wish I could remember them."

Bella touched his cheek. "I know. You told me that Violet sang to Joe while he was sick."

"She had a voice like an angel. Carlisle heard her several times, so I do know that. Lillian lived to be ninety-two. I'm happy for her. For all of them. They all lived good lives."

They set the picture aside and looked at the next one of Edward, Joe, and Will together that one of the girls must have taken. Edward smiled down on the old photograph of himself with his friends. It was a contented smile, but it was lacking the pleasure it would've held had he been able to remember them. He contented himself knowing through Carlisle's memories that, once, the people in these pictures had been very important to him and knowing now that they had all led full, happy lives.

He was making peace with not being able to remember them personally, that the first seventeen years of his life were lost.

Looking at the next picture, Edward's smile faltered before brightening again. "My mother," he said.

Bella tightened her arms around his waist. "She was beautiful, Edward. I think you look like her."

In this photograph, Edward and his mother were standing in front of the same rose bush as the girls had. The next picture was of Edward sitting in front of their desk, and they both looked at it quietly before passing on to the next.

In all, there were eighteen photographs.

There was one of his house, and the sight of the grand Tudor-style home made Bella's breath catch in her throat. Though smaller, it too closely resembled the funeral parlor her mother and Phil had been buried from. They hurried past that one.

There were also photos of people Edward didn't recognize. An older couple. A baby. It was difficult for Bella to see the look of resignation in Edward's eyes. He had no idea who they were. At one time, the people in the pictures had been a part of his life, but like so much else, they had been lost to him.

There was a photograph of Maggie and Nellie in what had been the Masens' kitchen, standing in front of what had at the time been the state of the art in kitchen appliances. There were also more of Edward's mother. One was of her cutting lavender from along a border next to their house. Her hands were blurred, as if she'd moved while the picture was being taken. Bella suspected she hadn't known her son was taking her picture.

"There are two rolls left you never used."

"Mhmm."

Bella smiled at him. "Think the camera will still work after all this time?"

"Want to find out?"

Smiling widely, Bella nodded her head.

"Stay here," Edward said.

Bella tried to hold as still as Edward could but failed and laughed. Edward pulled his old camera out of his trunk.

"Wow, look at that." Bella came over and held the camera, looking it over.

"If you're looking for the LCD screen, you won't find one."

"Oh, ha. Very funny, Aggie. How do you use it?"

"You put film in and press the button."

"Oh, aren't you on a roll." Bella turned the camera all around. "OK, so exactly how do you put the film in it?"

"No idea." Edward looked through his trunk again. "There's a manual." After reading quickly through the manual, he took the camera back and expertly opened it and loaded the film in seconds.

"You are _such_ a _show off_."

He smirked and winked at her.

Picking up the century-old manual and flipping through it, Bella said, "I don't think I could ever figure this out. Manuals made no more sense then than they do now. Maybe less." She read out loud from the manual, asking, "Pull out the winding key to limit of motion. Limit of motion? What does that mean?"

"Only pull it as far as it will go easily. Don't force it, or you'll break it." He asked, "Where do you want to pose? It has to be someplace bright."

"Me?"

"Of course you. Who did you think I was going to take pictures of? Jessica?"

"Can't I take one of you?"

"If you'd like."

After a crash course in early 20th century photography and placing several lamps around the room to brighten the space, Bella held the antique camera firmly against her stomach, held her breath, and took a picture of Edward at his piano. She sat next to him as he finished the song. "That was beautiful. You played that outside. Who was it by?"

"That was by yours truly." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Especially for you."

"You wrote that… _for me_?"

"I wrote all the music I played for you tonight. Some of them I wrote decades ago, but several, like that one, were inspired by you."

There had to have been twenty songs on the CD he'd played for her.

"I call it _Bella's Lullaby_."

"You…. Edward…." Quickly, carefully setting the antique camera down on the piano, Bella took his face in her hands and kissed him. She spoke against his skin as she kissed from his mouth down along his jaw. "Thank you, Edward. I love it." She kissed beneath his ear. "And I love you." Bella heard him moan, and she smiled as she bit and sucked at his ear. "This is where I first kissed you. Right here. You played for me then, too. Remember?"

His voice was deep and husky when he spoke. "Vividly."

Sliding onto Edward's lap, Bella slid her hand into his hair and kissed down his neck. "Vividly? How vividly?"

"Bella…."

She could feel the muscles in his neck as he swallowed before he spoke; she could feel the effort it was for him to speak her name. "Tell me how you felt, how it felt when I kissed you."

Edward's hands slid under the suit jacket she was still wearing and around her waist. "Love…. Disbelief…. Hope…. Warm…. Soft…. _Mine_."

"Yes, yours."

"_Mine_." The word came out like a growl—primal, possessive. Taking control of their kisses, Edward's hands roamed over her back beneath the jacket. Pushing her backwards, he kept one arm around her, gently settling her against his piano. Several notes rang out as they brushed and pressed against the keys. He could feel the metal of the zipper up the back of her dress. He could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric. It would be so easy to slide that zipper down, to feel her warm skin directly against his again. His other hand slid down her side, down her thigh to her knee, past the hem of her dress to her bare leg. Bella's skin felt just as he remembered it, so soft, so warm. So easily he could slide his hand back up her leg, under the hem of her dress… up her thigh.

As he had before, Edward realized he was very quickly forgetting all the reasons he had for not doing just that, and he knew if he didn't stop this now he would very soon be beyond the ability to think rationally.

Knowing that did nothing to help him stop; his hands seemed to move of their own accord, sliding up her leg, sliding the zipper down her back. Even as he was tracing his finger along the lacy edge of her panties, one last scrap of sanity was screaming at him to stop. Even as he was standing and lifting her along with him, images of the bruises on her shoulders from weeks ago flashed through his mind, but then his mate wrapped her legs around his waist and there was no turning back.

He carried her up the stairs as she continued to kiss and bite at his neck, his jaw, below his ear. In his room, he set her on her feet only long enough to let her dress fall to the floor. She kicked it away and lay down on the couch, stretching out in front of him in only his suit jacket and her black lace panties.

Arching her back as she positioned herself with one hand behind her head, the jacket slid open further, nearly exposing her bare chest to him.

Slowly sliding her hand seductively up and down the lapel, Bella taunted him. "I never did return your jacket."

Every time they were together his mate got bolder, more confident, but Edward felt as unsure of himself and as out of his depth as the first time he'd accidentally brushed his fingertip against the edge of her breast all those weeks ago in this very room. He dropped to his knees next to her with just enough coherent thought left in his head to wish he could think of something equally seductive to say but not enough to think of anything.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Bella ran her hands up and down her arms, never taking her eyes off his face. "I think I like it. I might just decide to keep it. If you want it back, you'll just have to take it yourself."

Unable to speak, Edward did the only thing he could; he leaned forward to claim her mouth with his own.

Bella raised herself onto her elbow to meet him and slid her other hand into his hair, roughly dragging her nails across his scalp and moaning loudly into his mouth when his hand slid under the suit jacket and fondled her breast before continuing up to her shoulder and sliding the fabric down her arm.

The jacket removed and tossed carelessly aside, Bella resumed her position on the couch in only the black lace panties, and she stretched both arms back behind her head, arching her back as she stretched.

Watching his eyes follow her every move, Bella felt every bit of the power she held over her mate. No one else ever got to see the desire in his eyes that she did; no one else had ever inspired it before.

No one else ever had, and no one else ever would. That look was hers and hers alone, as Edward himself was.

Seeing his eyes, his face, as he looked at her, his eyes devouring her, was intense and as erotic as hell. Bella shifted her position, and Edward jumped at the movement.

Kneeling in front of her, Edward was a contradiction. With the exception of the jacket, now laying abandoned and crumpled in a heap in the corner, his clothing was as perfect as it was the moment she'd arrived—his waistcoat and shirt fully buttoned, his tie still tied perfectly at the base of his throat. In comparison to his perfect attire, the expression on his face was primal, almost animalistic; his eyes were wild with desire. It was very indicative of Edward, Bella realized: the perfectly maintained façade concealing from the world the real and passionate man beneath. The man who loved her, who had waited nearly a century for her.

She rolled slightly to her side and watched his eyes follow the movement. Lying practically naked in front of him with him still fully dressed was an incredible turn-on. Pushing herself up on one hand, Bella slowly slid her other hand down her chest. Edward's eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply. Thrilled at his response, she repeated the motion again and again, sliding her hand from one breast to the other.

Edward was trembling.

Lying back down, she replaced her arm back behind her head and arched her back as she moved her hand from one breast to the other, circling her nipples and pinching them gently.

Edward's breathing was ragged; his eyes never left her hand as it glided across her skin, and her eyes never left his as he watched her.

Emboldened, knowing she was holding him spellbound and feeling incredibly dirty, Bella spread her legs slightly apart and traced her fingertips down her stomach to toy with the edge of her panties. She nearly came just watching Edward lick his lips. Sliding her fingers over the black lace, she moaned out loud and grabbed Edward's tie, pulling him to her. She kissed him, commanding him against his lips, "Take your clothes off."

She felt his absence for barely a second and heard fabric tear before she felt his cool skin against hers, causing her to gasp and moan out his name. Fabric tore again and her panties were thrown across the room, landing in shreds on top of the forgotten suit coat.

His hands replaced hers, both on her breasts and between her legs. Teasing him had already brought her so close to falling over the edge that she climaxed, screaming his name, almost the moment his fingers slid over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You have been a very, very naughty girl, Miss Swan. What should I do with you now?"

"Mhhmmmm. You're just going to have to punish me. Teach me a lesson."

"I should say so. What should your punishment be?" Edward's voice raised an octave as Bella's hand closed around his cock.

"Or maybe I could make it up to you?" She pushed gently against his shoulder, and he reversed their positions so she was above him, straddling his thighs. "Isn't there _anything_ I could do to make it up to you? _Anything at all_?" As she spoke, she alternated sucking and biting all over his chest, then gently, tenderly kissing where she'd bitten a moment ago. She bit down on his nipple, then teased the marble skin with her tongue, all the while holding him loosely and slowly running her hand up and down his length.

"Bellllll… lllaaaa…."

Looking up at him, she closed her lips around his nipple again and hummed questioningly, "Hmmmmm?"

He bit his lip and growled.

"Sorry, didn't quite get that. Could you repeat it?"

Edward could only whimper. Feeling drunk from his reaction to her, Bella moved lower down his body on her hands and knees, dragging her mouth down his chest, letting her hair trail against his skin. "I love the way you taste… so… _you_." Passing his navel, Bella felt the thin trail of hair leading down like an arrow and gently pulled the strands between her teeth.

Edward arched off the couch and screamed her name.

Her long hair fell against his erection as her hand continued to stroke him agonizingly slowly. Continuing to kiss her way down, she felt the coarse coppery hairs at the base of his penis tickle her chin. The first time she'd done this, she'd been so nervous, unsure if she'd be able to actually do it. When he'd still been covered by his boxers, she hadn't even thought about it, but when, literally, it had been staring her straight in the face…. She'd wanted to taste him, to feel him in her mouth so badly, but she'd been afraid she'd cop out at the last moment. Just like the first time, Bella barely touched the tip of her tongue to the base of his erection and slowly licked up the side—only this time, feeling bolder, she made a point of looking up at him and locking her eyes on his face as he watched her.

Edward's eyes were wide, unblinking, transfixed on her. Watching him, seeing the bare emotions in his face, was something she treasured. Stripped of the mask he was forced to present to the world, his face was as naked to her as his body was. The way his eyes fell shut as his mouth fell open, gasping, and how he trembled any time she closed her lips around the head of his penis were things about him that only she knew. The way he abandoned all control and let himself be lost to the sensations she was creating in him was something only she got to see. The way the muscles in his legs contracted moments before he came was her secret to guard. Reading his body's signals, Bella replaced her mouth with her hand and worked him a moment longer until he climaxed, crying out her name.

Maybe she could work up to letting him come in her mouth, but she didn't think so. Besides, what could she say? Just like with his face, she liked to watch, to see his release, to see it on her hand.

The icy cold fluid coating her fingers was thin and watery, like liquid silk. It was perfectly clear but had a pearly sheen to it.

Edward pulled her up to him, and as she settled herself next to him, he pulled several soft throws from the collection he'd folded and piled next to the couch and covered them. Cupping his face with her clean hand she kissed him, hoping he could feel how much she loved him in her touch.

Looking deeply into her eyes as he spoke, Edward ran his hand up and down her back. "I am the luckiest man in the world."

Bella kissed over his silent heart and laid her head down on his chest. She could stay right here in his arms forever and be perfectly happy. "Then we really are a perfect match. Because I'm the luckiest girl."

They lay there together for several quite moments before Edward spoke again. His voice held a quiet determination. "It wasn't six times. It was eight," he said.

Pillowing her chin on her forearm, Bella looked up at him questioningly, not understanding the random comment.

He continued, "What… you asked me about in the woods the other day…. It wasn't six times. It was eight. No, that's not normal. And yes, it hurts, but I don't remember that part."

"Eight? _Eight_? You mean you were bitten _eight_ times? But—"

Edward moved the blankets, uncovering his leg, and pointed out a nearly invisible crescent-shaped scar about halfway down his thigh. "Femoral artery."

"You don't remember it?" Bella tried to keep her voice even; if Edward was ready and willing to talk, she didn't want to get emotional and make him stop. But that was easier said than done— Edward had been sick and in pain.

"No. I was…." Edward tightened his arm around her and gently lowered her head back against his chest. "You have to understand, Bella. I was so sick. My fever had been over 104 for days, often reaching 105. I was in so much pain. My fever was so high, even just feeling the sheet on my bed and the fabric of my hospital gown against my skin was intensely painful.

"Carlisle didn't know what he was doing. None of the doctors at the time did. They tried, but they… made mistakes. It's ironic, really, in a way. When you tried to send me medicine, you warned me about the dosages, to not take too much. There was so little doctors at the time could do, nothing really. There was no real treatment, no cure. If the influenza progressed in a patient, all they could do was palliative. All they could do was treat the symptoms, not the illness itself. Aspirin was… at the time… thought to be a kind of miracle drug. You took some of these little white tablets and your pain or your fever went away. The Surgeon General himself recommended its use in the treating of the epidemic."

Edward's voice sounded like it was echoing through the decades, originating nearly one hundred years ago in a hospital filled well past capacity with the sick and dying, then fading until it was nearly inaudible by the time it reached her ears.

"But we didn't know then what we do now. We didn't know how much was safe. We didn't know too much was unsafe. The _Journal of the American Medical Association_ suggested a dose of one thousand milligrams every three hours. That's about twenty-five standard aspirin tablets in one day, about twice the daily dosage we now know to be safe. It was enough to lead to toxicity and fluid in the lungs. It was enough to contribute to secondary bacterial infections. Sound at all familiar? We were poisoning ourselves and attributing the symptoms of the poisoning to the disease we were trying to fight because we were desperate and didn't know any better.

"But my mother and I weren't just any patients, and Carlisle wasn't just any doctor. He'd been alone for so long—alone amongst humans because of what he was, alone amongst his own kind because of what he wasn't. He'd met several of our kind over the centuries who'd accepted his… _peculiarity_… and he visited them occasionally, and that helped the loneliness temporarily. He'd already befriended the Denalis and spent considerable time with them. They asked him more than once to join them, but even though they shared a diet, their lifestyle wasn't his. My mother and I were the first humans he'd formed any kind of bond with for nearly three hundred years, and after… my father… and watching so many others die… he was desperate. Knowing he'd never have a son of his own, it was especially hard for him to watch me grow worse hour by hour.

"The recommended dosage was already twice what's safe. He gave us, me especially, even more. Plus the morphine and Dover's powder he gave me.

"Knowing what we do now, he blames himself terribly, but he was only doing what he truly believed at the time was the only thing that might help.

"My mother refused when he tried to sedate her. She wanted to be as alert as possible. She insisted on…. As sick as she was, she insisted on trying to nurse me herself.

"From Carlisle's memories, I was rarely conscious enough to know how much pain I was in, but when I was lucid, I tried to say your name."

Bella fought as hard as she could to not move, not wanting to interrupt him, but she couldn't stop the tears from falling from her eyes. They fell freely, warm droplets landing on Edward's bare chest.

"Our family and friends came and sat with us whenever they could. They did whatever they could, but there weren't enough hours in the day to take care of everyone who was sick, and they were already exhausted. Finally… Carlisle was forced to admit to himself and to them that the influenza was going to win. The cyanosis…. There was no mistaking the signs. They'd all seen it too many times to delude themselves. The end was inevitable... and it was near. My mother…. She could've made it… she could've survived… if she hadn't… but she wouldn't listen."

The more difficult it became for Edward to speak, the more his arms held her close. The closer he held her, the harder Bella cried. Even though she'd always had a pretty good idea of what he'd suffered from what he'd written to her of the epidemic and had known that when she heard the details it would be hard, she hadn't fully appreciated just how hard it would be. Her mate's beautiful face that horrid blue color he'd described to her and shining with sweat from his fever filled her mind. Edward couldn't remember his parents' lives, but he had all the details of their deaths from Carlisle's memories.

"Late that last night, she…. Carlisle had considered the idea before but could never bring himself to do it. He couldn't end anyone's life the way his own had been. But if I was going to die anyway…. He'd been alone for so long…. He'd thought for the past several decades that maybe if he couldn't _find_ a companion… maybe… maybe he could _make_ one. But he couldn't justify it. No matter how lonely he was, he couldn't justify doing to someone else what had been done to him. His conscience was too strong. But my mother begged him. She knew what he was. She'd known all along. She begged him to save me. He promised to do everything in his power." Edward's voice shook. "With almost her dying breath… she commanded him—and it was a command; there was no mistaking that. She was so weak; she could barely speak. She couldn't even raise her head off the pillow by that time, but there was no question that she was ordering him. 'You must,' she said, 'You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.' Forcing herself to speak used the last of her strength. She lost consciousness almost immediately and died less than an hour later."

"She was a remarkable woman, Edward. It's not any old human who bosses around a vampire."

"No, it's not. You and she are two of a kind." He kissed the top of her head. "She would have loved you, I think.

"Carlisle took her to the morgue personally, then came back for me. He was a wreck, both terrified and overwhelmed with gratitude. My mother had just told him she'd known what he was all along. Not in those exact words, but the meaning of what she'd said was clear. It had always been his greatest fear, and it had happened. But instead of screaming out the truth, rather than seeing him as a monster, she'd seen him as good and as lonely and had befriended him, going so far as to allow me to befriend him as well. Now, she had for all intents and purposes given me to him, given him her son. To save. He wasn't sure if what she asked of him was truly _savin_g me. He didn't even know if he _could_ change me, or if he would end up killing me himself—which terrified him more than anything else. He didn't know if he had the right to try, even in spite of my mother's plea. I would be the one to have to live with it, not her. Even as my mother, did she have the right to make that decision for me? After all, she couldn't know everything her request entailed.

"But he was also excited at the prospect of no longer being alone, and his decision was made the second he returned to my bedside. Without hesitating, he covered me with a sheet and wheeled me through the halls toward the morgue."

Bella gasped and pushed herself up onto her elbow, the first time she looked him in the face since he started talking. "Oh, God, no. That was your worst nightmare, you said. Being declared dead and taken to the morgue while you were still alive. You told me about that place, how horrible it was. Please…. Please tell me you were unconscious. Please tell me you didn't know what was happening."

He stroked her hair. "I hadn't a clue, love, I promise. Between the influenza itself and the drugs, I was completely unconscious."

"Oh, thank God. I…." Bella wiped the tears from her eyes with the palm of her hand. "I had nightmares. Horrible, horrible nightmares of just exactly that, just like you did. So many nights I dreamed I was chasing after an orderly pushing you on a gurney. I could hear you breathing. I could hear you crying. Sometimes, I could see your chest rising and falling beneath the white sheet pulled over you as you breathed. I kept screaming that you were alive, but no one heard me. I could never catch you. No matter how hard I ran, I could never catch you. I always woke up just as the end of your gurney pushed open these horrible double doors with the word 'Morgue' written over them."

"Don't cry, love. It's all over. I didn't know what was happening." After a moment Edward continued, "No one was around. People avoided the morgue—that's a bit of an understatement. He picked me up off the gurney and carried me out a back door to an alley behind the hospital. He ran through Chicago with me, carrying me across the rooftops, trying to be as gentle as possible, to not jostle me, but time was of the essence, and he'd had to hurry. It was clear I had very little time left—hours, maybe minutes. He couldn't even be sure I would survive until we reached his house. Just like now, he lived well outside of town, as far away from people as he possibly could. He was worried, because he didn't know if I would survive long enough for the venom to change me. That's why he bit me so many times. He was trying to get as much of his venom into me as possible, hoping it would make the change faster."

"Did it?"

Edward shook his head.

"At least you didn't know you were being bitten. At least you didn't feel it."

"Being bitten is the least of the pain, Bella. The venom changing you is like… every cell in your body being on fire. It's excruciating."

Trying to remain calm when faced with Edward's pain, Bella's hands closed into fists; she could feel her nails digging into her palms. "But the morphine…."

"The venom burned through the morphine in minutes. It takes three days. Three days of more pain than I can even begin to describe. More pain than you could even begin to understand. It isn't something someone who hasn't felt it could ever understand. It isn't something that anyone who has felt it can ever forget. That pain is the first thing I can remember—the pain and Carlisle's voice, his voice pleading with me to forgive him, promising that the pain wouldn't last, that it would be over soon. He rarely left my side, and only when it was absolutely necessary."

Edward explained Carlisle's actions over those three days: the difficult phone calls he'd had to make to his uncles, the lies, the pretenses, breaking into his family's house, the faked death certificate, and the greased palms to get the bodies buried as quickly as possible.

"Aside from that, he never left my side. He talked to me, explained to me what he was and what he had done and why. He read to me. He took a book from my bedside table at our house and read it to me. After that, he read his own books to me. He played his phonograph—it was him, by the way, who donated the phonograph and records to the hospital. It was also him who footed the bill of returning soldiers who needed help but had no money. He did whatever he could to try to make the pain even just a little more tolerable, to at least let me know I wasn't alone and the pain would end. He was so afraid I would hate him for what he'd done when I woke up, but how could I?"

Bella had. She'd hated him. She felt guilty now, remembering her initial reaction that night in February.

"The sound of his voice and that pain were all I knew, and when I awoke I was too relieved the pain was gone to really care about anything else, to worry or be upset that I couldn't remember any of the things he was telling me, that I could see in his mind.

"And there was the thirst….

"When the venom changes you, it fixes whatever is wrong with the body, illnesses…" He touched his shoulder where the pox scar once was. "…scars. It strengthens and enhances everything exponentially: senses, musculature, strengths, interests, abilities, talents. But it also freezes the body exactly as it is at that moment. Whatever you are at that moment, you will be as long as you exist. Everything freezes as it is, from the length of your hair to your weight to your age. Nothing grows, nothing changes ever again. We think that's why I can't remember anything from before. Because when Carlisle bit me, after so many days of the fever and the drugs, I didn't know who or where I was, and that is how my mind stayed. Not knowing."

They lay together quietly for so long, Edward thought his Bella might be falling asleep, and he nudged her gently. "Still awake? Or did I bore you to sleep again?"

"You could never bore me. I was just thinking. I guess I understand a little better now why you don't want me to become like you. Because of that pain? You don't want me to go through that."

"That's part of it, but there's more."

"But… Alice has seen me like you already, hasn't she?"

Edward's whole body flinched.

"Don't be mad at Alice. She didn't tell me. I asked her, but she told me I had to talk to you—which knowing how you feel, only makes sense if she had."

"Alice's visions aren't perfect. The future isn't carved in stone. It can change."

But Bella didn't want it to change. She laid her head back down on his chest and sighed. Tonight had been too perfect. She didn't want to ruin it by discussing something that would upset him. "You feel warmer," she observed

"Our bodies react to what's around us. If it's cold or warm, our bodies are colder or warmer."

"So, you feel warm because of me?"

"In every way possible."

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Historical note: The dosage The Journal of the American Medical Association recommended was 1,000 milligrams every three hours, or 8,000 milligrams a day. The safe dosage for an adult is 4 grams a day.

I hope you liked it! Drop me a review and let me know what you thought!


	45. Chapter 45

Look at this! It's Saturday, and I'm updating! WOHOOOO!

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and bigblueboat, who filled in for SecretlySeverus while she's on vacation.

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"He did all that for you? Bella! That's so romantic!" Angela gushed as the girls made their way to the cafeteria.

Angela's reaction to Bella's description of her and Edward's date Saturday night couldn't have been more different to Jessica's.

"Did you _do it_?"

"Jess!"

"What? I'm telling you, after doing all that for you, he was expecting _you_ to do something for _him_." Jessica smirked at them both. "Don't act so surprised. All guys are the same. They only want one thing."

Bella cringed. She knew Edward would've heard that. He hadn't seemed as upset about throwing his "no fooling around" creed out the window, into the trash, and down the river as she had feared. When she'd brought it up on Sunday, he'd quietly said he had to accept that he just wasn't strong enough to resist and that all that mattered was that he hadn't hurt her. But she was afraid Edward felt more than he was sharing with her, trying to protect her, to not hurt her feelings, and she was afraid hearing Jessica talk so crassly would make him feel he'd done something wrong, something improper or inappropriate.

She parted ways from her friends at the door to the cafeteria and crossed the room to the table were Edward sat waiting for her. He stood and immediately kissed her tenderly.

"Mmm. Hello to you, too," Bella sighed.

"What would you like for lunch today? They have the stringy stuff with the red sauce on it, the flat, round, brown thing on the fluffy tan thing, or the white chunks covered with the flat, tan thing and some kind of sticks they take out of something boiling. I don't think any of it is safe for you to consume, let alone actually nutritious."

"Hmmm. No flat, square, orange thing for the flat, round, brown thing? I think I'll go with the white chunks and the boiled sticks. Do they have the white, creamy stuff to dip the white chunks in?" Bella asked, laughing.

Edward made a disgusted face, and they joined the rest of their class in line.

As they walked, Bella whispered too quietly to be overheard, "Give it up, Aggie. After Saturday night you lost the ability to claim to not know what human food is."

"I'm not entirely sure whatever it is they serve in this school fully qualifies as human food. Perhaps I should start bringing something in for you. Truly, Bella, what they serve here can't be good for you."

Bella laughed and wrapped her arm around his.

Jessica grinned at them as they approached, like she was in on a big secret. "Hi, _Edward_." She said, trying to say his name in a playful manner and failing. The little twit was twirling a strand of hair around her finger, actually trying to flirt with him while Bella was standing right next to him. Edward had to focus on Bella's warm arm wrapped around his to make it through the seven minutes spent in the lunch line next to the intolerable girl.

He whispered to Bella as they walked back to their table. "I'm sure I must have been this glad to get away from someone before, but at this moment I can't recall a specific instance."

"Don't let her get to you."

"Oh, she doesn't. Not really. In fact…," he leaned halfway across the table, "...she's furious right now. It's really quite comical."

Bella nearly choked as she took a sip from her can of soda. Smiling widely she leaned across the table to meet him. "Edward! You? Spreading high school gossip! I can't believe it. First you're criticizing cafeteria food, now you're gossiping. What's next?"

"What can I say? You're bringing out my inner seventeen-year-old human."

"Spill, Cullen."

"All that—her acting like that just now—wasn't for me. It was for Mike. Turns out, prom wasn't so-totally-great-absolutely-just-freaking-fabulous after all."

"Really? What happened?"

"It's what didn't happen. Mike was distracted all night. He barely paid any attention to her. She thought he was going to try something, and he didn't. She's insulted."

"So telling her about everything you did for me?"

"Pissed her off royally. And she was trying to attract my attention to make Mike jealous."

"Did it work?"

"He didn't even notice," Edward said, the smile falling from his face, his eyes looking thoughtful.

Bella laughed and dipped a chicken nugget into ranch sauce. Turning serious, she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up at Edward, whispering, "You're meeting with the pack again this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"Can I come?"

"Bella—"

"Edward, please. You said you'd worked out some strategies. I wanna see. It'd make me feel better. Maybe I wouldn't worry so much if I could see for myself." It was an underhanded trick, especially when she batted her eyes at him and pouted, but she had to practice her little underhanded tricks to be ready for the great big one she was planning.

Edward pushed his untouched plate of spaghetti away and dropped his face into his hands, roughly rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. He turned his head an inch in his family's direction. "Jaz?"

Across the room, Jasper gave no outwardly indication he'd heard his name, but the look of resignation on Edward's face told her he'd answered the implied question in her favor. Bella had to work to restrain the whoop she wanted to let out.

"You will stay where I tell you the whole time, Bella. I'm serious. If you move so much as an inch, I'll know, and I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to Forks. Are we clear?"

"We're clear. We're crystal. Stay out of the way. I promise. Thank you, Edward."

"Don't thank me yet, we have to clear it with Sam first. There is no reason to assume they'll be amenable to granting us any favors, and you're still very much _persona non grata_ with most of the pack."

"Oh."

The crestfallen look on his mate's face broke his heart. "I promise, Carlisle will ask. And Jacob has forgiven you, that'll help. He feels terrible that the entire reservation shunned you like that. He really didn't know they were going to do that, love. He was as furious with them as he was with you. And, surprisingly, you have another supporter, although a very reluctant one. Leah Clearwater."

"Leah? No way. She can't stand me. She never could, even before."

"Oh, she doesn't _like_ you, but don't take it personally. Leah doesn't _like_ anyone anymore. But she thinks you were justified in defending your mate and told them she'd have done the same." As serious as the conversation was, Edward's voice glowed when he referred to himself as her mate. "Really, those are the two most important allies you could have. Jacob is the Beta, next in line to be Alpha. By rights, by blood, he should be Alpha now, but he doesn't want to be. And Leah…. Sam and Leah have a history. He hurt her badly, though unintentionally, and would do anything to make it up to her."

Bella's throat burned painfully. Jacob forgave her.

"Thank you, Edward."

.

.

Sam reluctantly agreed to allow Bella to observe, and after much begging on her part and promises and assurances of her safety on Edward's, her father consented, and she found herself standing several feet back behind the Cullens and Denalis, waiting for the pack to arrive. The first wolf stepped from the trees, and Bella's heart slammed against her rib cage. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound caught in her throat. Several more wolves followed the first, and the scream broke free.

"Jesus Christ!"

She jumped backwards and tripped over her own two feet, landing hard on the ground. Edward was at her side in an instant. She turned to him in shock. "You said wolves! Wolves! Wolves are…." Bella held her hand up and waved it back and forth, frantically marking the height she felt appropriate for a wolf. "Those things are…" She waved her hand around wildly as high as she could reach. She looked like she was trying to shoo away a swarm of bees. "…NOT WOLVES!"

There were nine _very-definitely-not-wolves_ across the clearing, and if very-definitely-not-wolves could smirk, those were. One of the wolves crossed the clearing; its enormous head turning haughtily from one to another as it walked through first its brothers then the vampires, who, shockingly enough, stepped back and made way for it as it approached.

Bella's hand clenched Edward's as tightly as she could as the enormous animal walked right up to her and loomed over her before sitting down next to her and offering her his right front paw.

Tentatively at first, but then smiling, Bella shook the large paw. It was almost as big as her own hand. "_Jacob_? Is that _you_?"

The animal stood and lowered its massive face to hers—and licked her.

"EWWW! Jeez, Jake! Just say 'hey' next time!" Bella wiped the side of her face on her sleeve. "God, that's so gross!"

Edward laughed.

"Think that's funny, Aggie?" Bella wiped her sleeve against him.

Alice shrieked, "Bella! I gave him that sweater! Don't ruin it!"

Very pleased with himself, Jacob playfully batted her under the chin with his muzzle before rejoining the pack.

The amused smile slowly fell from Edward's face, and he turned his head toward the wolves. A tenth wolf stepped sluggishly through the trees and collapsed to the ground behind the others as if it had been shot dead.

"Well, I'll be damned," Edward mumbled under his breath.

Bella looked at him worriedly. Edward never swore.

He was looking directly at the wounded animal with a look of pure compassion in his eyes.

"What's wrong? Edward, what happened? Is he OK? Is he hurt? What happened?"

Edward shook his head in answer. The wolves all looked back and forth between each other and their wounded brother like they didn't know what to do. Jasper stepped forward and began the training as if there wasn't a badly wounded animal lying in the grass fifty yards away. To Bella's surprise, the nine wolves abandoned the tenth, and two charged at Jasper.

What followed, Bella could not have explained because just like the first time she'd watched the Cullens demonstrating how to fight against newborns, the movements were so fast she couldn't follow enough to know who was fighting with or against whom. The only difference between the first time and now was that instead of Sam and Jacob watching from a distance as humans, the pack actively participated as wolves.

But she could tell that the movements were perfectly choreographed and coordinated, and it did relieve some of her anxiety.

At least until it was Edward's turn.

Edward had stayed by her side until nearly the end, but then it was his turn to join the fight. Watching him fight against Jasper had been nothing like this—Jasper was, after all, his brother—but now he was fighting against the wolves. Of course, Bella knew he was really fighting _with_ the wolves, but it sure as hell looked like they were fighting against him. And because of her, the wolves had a special reason to dislike him.

Guilt coursed through her for even thinking it, but she couldn't drive the thought from her mind. Did the wolves hate Edward enough because of her to not come to his aid quite fast enough during the battle?

Just as he had with his brother, Edward moved so fast she couldn't even see him. One second he was in one spot, and in that same second, he was somewhere else. A large wolf lunged at him head on—its large jowls wide open, teeth bared—but when the animal's jaws were inches from closing around him, Edward was somewhere else, poised and lunging at the animal before it could turn to charge him again.

As he had with all the groups, Jasper gave a running commentary, corrections, recommendations, approval.

It was horrible to watch, even knowing it was practice, knowing they were on the same side. If this was just practice, what would it be like when the fight was real? When it wasn't one of his family or one of the wolves lunging at him? When it was a newborn, dozens of newborns, intent on killing him?

Bella felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach she'd felt before—last summer, when he'd been battling that God awful epidemic ninety-one years ago. Remembering the mind-numbing agony of seeing her letter still in the secret compartment of their desk, the horrible realization of what that meant, hearing Michael confirm her worst fear…. Bella's stomach was churning as everything she'd eaten that day threatened to come back up.

When the training was over, Edward rejoined her, as proud as a small child bringing home a good report card. "See? I told you. Nothing to—Bella!"

Bella threw herself at him, cutting off his reassurances, and wrapped her arms around him, swearing to herself she was never letting go again. She'd had the urge before to grab Edward and run away with him, hide him away somewhere, but never as strong as this. It was all consuming. And she had no intention of fighting it this time. He'd sworn he'd be careful last time, when the epidemic struck, but in the end it hadn't mattered. Little Charlie had fallen ill, and he'd held the sick little boy in his arms for hours, signing his own death certificate in the process.

No matter how fast he was, one of the newborns could be faster.

What if one of the newborns had Esme cornered, or Alice, or Carlisle? Regardless of how Edward saw himself, he was—in essentials—the same person now he'd been then. Whether it beat or not, he had the same heart now as he'd had then, and he would instinctively react now exactly as he had then—without thinking about himself.

Or one of the newborns could even be a shield, like her, and able to block him completely. Edward depended so much on hearing people's thoughts, it would be like trying to fight blindfolded.

Or what if one of the newborns was a mind reader, too?

Or what if one of the newborns was able to deceive him, trick him? Make him believe he was thinking one thing when in reality he was thinking exactly the opposite? Edward would be expecting and prepared for an attack from the right, but it would come from the left.

Edward was not going to fight; that was all there was to it. She wasn't going to let him. Edward was simply not going to fight. Whatever she had to do, whatever it took, she would do it—but he _was not _going to fight.

"Bella? Dearest? What is it? What's wrong?"

_Not here. Not now. Wait. Get him alone. Plan what to say, how to say it. You'll only get one chance. _Do not _blow it again. _

"Bella? Please, tell me what's wrong."

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Bella—"

"I'm fine. Really. I'm sorry. I just…. That was awesome. You were incredible. Really. Just…. Maybe a little too much for the human."

"I never should've brought you here."

"It was my idea, Edward."

"I should've known better."

"I'm fine. Really. It's just…. One minute you were there, then the next you were somewhere else, then the next you were somewhere else again…. Just made me a little dizzy trying to keep up, I guess."

"You're sure? That's all? You're sure you're OK?"

"Really, I'm sure." Bella felt horrible lying to him, but she knew the worst was yet to come.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

"Let me just…. Oh."

"What?"

Bella had looked across the field to where the wolves had been. They were gone. "I wanted to talk to Jake. Apologize."

"They didn't stick around. They wanted to get back to the reservation."

Edward and Bella held hands as they walked toward Edward's car.

"What was wrong with that one? Was he hurt?" Bella asked.

Edward looked at the ground for a moment before answering. He spoke slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. "Bella, I don't mean to sound callous, but it's not our concern."

"But, if he's hurt…."

"It's not hurt. Not physically anyway. And it's not a he."

"Not a…. You mean _she's a she_? That's possible?"

"Apparently. It came as quite a surprise. It's the first time in the history of the tribe."

Edward opened the passenger door of his car, and Bella climbed in. He was behind the wheel and had the key in the ignition even as she reached for the seatbelt. "Who is she?"

Edward sounded reluctant to answer. "Leah Clearwater."

"Leah? When you said before that she was on my side, I didn't realize…."

They were silent for several minutes as Edward drove down the dirt road that lead to the clearing the two sides used for training.

"But what was wrong with her?"

"Bella, we have no right to get involved with the pack's personal problems. It's none of our business."

"But, she's hurt. Carlisle's a doctor, maybe he could help."

"She's not physically hurt, and even if she was, they wouldn't want our help or accept it if it was offered. This is an enemy-of-my-enemy situation, Bella. We're not friends. We are cooperating because it is in both of our best interests. We are facing a mutual threat, and we both know we can eliminate that threat much more efficiently as a joint force. The element of surprise alone gives us a tremendous advantage. Combine that with training to fight together as one unit, and the entire fight will be over in just a few minutes. It'll be too easy, hardly any fun at all. There won't be enough newborns to go around."

Bella squeezed her eyes shut and shivered. "I wish you would stop talking like this was a game, Edward."

Edward took her hand and stroked her wrist. "I'm sorry, love. We're not treating this like a game, honestly. But we are exceptionally well prepared. You saw how we worked together. I know how much you worry. I had hoped seeing that would help you feel more relaxed."

"All I saw were blurs whipping around each other and you vanishing into thin air and reappearing somewhere else. You never did tell me exactly how fast you are, you know."

"Honestly? I don't know. We've never actually clocked it. We can if it would make you feel better. But Carlisle has never met anyone faster than me. They'll never lay a finger on me, love. I promise."

Bella peaked at Edward from the corner of her eye. That was exactly the type of opening she'd hoped for. Guilt wormed its way from the pit of her stomach up through her chest, and she gasped at the sensation. It felt like a large snake was slithering around inside her, trying to bite its way out. But her father could discover the signs they were looking for any day. She didn't have time to wait.

All her life she'd tried, unsuccessfully, to fight her overactive tear ducts, but without fail they would go into overdrive at the slightest provocation. Now she encouraged them. Squeezing her hands into fists and wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach, trying to keep from being sick, she concentrated on the worst moments of her life: her belief that Edward had died, his telling her that her mother was gone, seeing her mother's body in her casket next to Phil, walking away from her grave….

Bella let the tears build behind her eyes and held her breath as long as she could before allowing them to fall and sobbing out, "Don't. Don't say that. Don't make promises you can't keep. You did that once before."

She heard Edward inhale sharply in surprise, as if she'd reached over and slapped him. She'd hurt him. She'd deliberately hurt him. Would he ever forgive her if he ever knew the truth? If he ever knew she'd done it on purpose to manipulate him?

The car stopped, and in an instant, Edward was out of the driver's seat and around to her side of the car. He opened the door and knelt in front of her. She fell into his arms crying, praying that one day he would forgive her for what she was about to do.

"I can't do that again, Edward. I can't go through that again. The not knowing…. It was horrible. Please don't put me through that again."

All the while Bella cried, setting him up, guilting him into doing what she wanted, Edward stroked her hair and her back, talking to her, trying to soothe her, apologizing over and over—as if _he_ had anything to apologize to _her_ for. She didn't deserve it. Her tears were as much from her guilt for what she was doing as for her worry for him, and _he_ was comforting _her_. She felt horrible. It was gut-wrenching. But it was working, or at least she hoped it was, and nothing was more important than that.

Bella leaned back, keeping her head down, her hands against his thighs. "I can't…. I can't…. I lost it. When I thought you were dead… I completely lost it. I can't not know you're safe. I can't. I have to be able to know you're safe."

"I'll be perfectly safe, Bella. The whole thing will be over in just a couple minutes. The newborns will never know what hit them."

Bella raised her red, swollen eyes to him. The misery in his beautiful amber eyes was beyond anything she could imagine and only increased when he saw her tear-stained face. Edward raised his hand to wipe away her tears, and she leaned into his touch. His cool skin felt heavenly.

"It'll really only take a few minutes?" she asked.

"It'll really only take a few minutes."

"And…. And you said… there won't even be enough of them to go around?"

"No, there won't."

"Then…." The guilt was so heavy, Bella felt like she couldn't breathe; her guilt was like an invisible force pressing in on her from all sides. After several seconds, she managed to whisper the words, but they were spoken so softly she barely heard them. "Don't go. Don't leave me. Don't fight. Stay with me."

Edward stilled, not one muscle even twitched.

"Edward, please… I'm scared. I can't…. Everyday… not knowing…. Being afraid to look in the desk… afraid I'd find nothing there…. I can't go through that again, even if it is only a few minutes. I can't. I just can't. Please don't put me through that again. I'll go crazy."

The seconds ticked by, growing into minutes, and still Edward did not move. The longer he remained quiet, the more the guilt coiled and turned to lead in her stomach.

Bella sat half in the car, half out, her body shaking with the force or her guilty tears. Edward's first movement was just the faint brushing of his thumb under her eye. It was as light as a feather.

"Alright."

Bella felt like all of her bones suddenly vanished, and Edward caught her as she slumped forward. The only parts of her body that didn't feel like jelly were her hands, which were grasping his shirt desperately. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." _I'm so sorry, Edward. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. _

His arms wrapped around her gently, securely cradling her against his chest. "Don't, Bella. Don't apologize for being afraid. If anyone should apologize it's me. I'm not doing a very good job of taking care of you. I should've seen how badly frightened you were. I should've realized that after… everything that happened before…." Edward eased her out of the car and sat with her along the side of the road, holding her close and rocking her slowly. "Nothing is more important to me than you, Bella. _Nothing. _If you need me to be with you, then that's where I need to be. I'll call Jasper. Tell him to work me out. It'll be fine."

Bella heard the anguish in his voice. Who was he trying to convince it would be fine? Her? Or himself? She'd put him in the position of having to abandon his family when they needed him. She'd made him choose between them and her. How could she keep this from him? How would he ever forgive her for this? _Oh, God. What have I done?_

.

.

"You've barely touched your dinner, Bella? Don't you like it?"

Tanya hovered anxiously behind her, stealing glances at her father. Bella couldn't look at her, hadn't been able to for days. How much additional risk had her selfish actions placed her in? She'd worried how Edward would ever forgive her, but what about her father? If Tanya was… hurt… because of what she'd done…. "I'm just not very hungry."

The worst part was knowing she'd do it again in a heartbeat to protect him if she had to.

"Final exams are coming up soon. Are you ready?"

Bella shrugged her shoulders.

Edward and his brothers had left almost immediately after school with Carlisle and could be gone for days. Nearly two weeks ago, three campers had been reported missing in Wyoming, their campsite was found intact with no sign of foul play or animal attack. They still had not been found. A week later, the director of a homeless shelter in Idaho called local police because several of his regulars hadn't shown up at night or at meal times for a couple days, and he was asking if they might've been picked up for something. Yesterday, the bodies of several prostitutes were found in the burnt out remains of an abandoned warehouse in Boise.

It could mean absolutely nothing.

Bella had been telling herself that all day, but she wasn't buying it. There was no point in pretending the reports were anything but what they were. Disappearances—exactly like those they'd been looking for. And they were headed west. They were several hundred miles to the southeast, but they were steadily moving west.

Edward and the others had gone to circle around, following the trail of disappearances starting at the missing campers' campsite to try to pick up any information they could. Bella'd had to physically bite her tongue to keep herself from begging him not to go. She could see the trepidation in his face, as if he'd expected her do to just that, as he'd explained where they would be and how important it was that he be there. He had to be there; he had to be able to hear what others could not, and his eyes had been pleading with her to understand.

After another ten minutes of not eating the stew on her plate, Bella was startled when the phone rang and shocked to see Jake's name on the screen. "It's Jake." Glancing quickly at her father and Tanya, she saw the matching looks of surprise on their faces.

She answered the phone. "Jake? What is it? What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong? Can't a guy just call to say 'hey?'"

There was an uncomfortable nervousness in his voice she'd never heard there before. Jacob had always sounded so confident. Sometimes, she wondered what it would be like to always be that sure of yourself. But right now, he was nervous.

"Of course you can." After several seemingly endless moments of awkward silence, Bella and Jacob both spoke at the same time. Both tried uncomfortably to make conversation, but each topic fizzled and died. This was horrible, Bella thought to herself. _Worried sick about Edward, can't even _talk _to Jake anymore…._

Finally, she asked, "Jake, why did you call, really? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_."

Bella noticed the way he stress the word wrong, as if there was _something—_just not necessarily something _wrong_.

"I just wondered how prom went." He sounded like he'd had to force the words out through clenched teeth.

"Prom?"

"Yeah. Prom. You know, big dance, real fancy."

"We didn't go."

"Not big on forcing down real food, is he? I thought he'd at least—"

"If you must know, we didn't go because I didn't want to. We did spend the evening together, though. But I'm afraid I don't kiss and tell." Too late did Bella remember—when she heard him choke on his beer—that her father was sitting only a few feet away.

"That's really more than I needed to know."

"Then you shouldn't have asked."

"OK, look. Here's the thing. I need to ask you about someone you go to school with."

"Oh. Oh, um. OK. That's… unexpected, but OK. Who?"

"Blond kid. Spiky hair. He was at the beach that day last summer. Went to your prom with some girl who was almost popping out of her dress."

"Oh, Mike Newton?"

"Newton. His family owns the sporting goods store?"

"Yeah. What about him?"

"He and that girl a couple?"

This was one of the most unexpected conversations she'd ever had in her life. Why on earth was Jacob asking about Mike and Jessica? Whatever the reason, by the tension in his voice, her answer was incredibly important. "Mike and Jessica? No. She's actually pretty pissed off at him."

"Why? What'd he do?" The tension in his voice changed to fear. Fear that would've made perfect sense if Jessica was his little sister, and he suspected Mike of going a little too far. But for two people he'd probably only ever met once nearly a year ago? It was definitely odd.

"Jake, what's up? Why are you asking about Mike and Jessica?"

"Just please tell me, Bella."

"He didn't do anything."

"Then why is she pissed at him?"

"That _is_ why. She wanted him to. She expected him to… you know… try something. But he didn't."

The amount of relief in Jake's voice was ridiculous. "He didn't try _anything _with that girl? You're sure? Nothing at all? I saw that dress, Bella. It didn't exactly say, 'Keep your hands to yourself and have me home by ten.'"

"Jake, why are you asking me this?"

"Just, please, answer the question." He stopped, and she could hear him inhale and exhale deeply. "I'm sorry. That was rude. Just please believe me, it's important."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

She heard him exhale again and couldn't believe the relief in his voice as he said, "That's… that's good news. They're not a couple or, you know, friends with benefits or anything like that?"

"No. Jake, what is going on? Edward and his family are out on the trail of those disappearances. One of your wolves is hurt, or sick. What the hell difference does it make if Mike Newton got some after prom?" Bella couldn't begin to understand him. _Why on earth would he be worried whether Mike and Jess did anything? Why would he be so relieved they didn't? He doesn't even know them. If he had a thing for Jess, it'd make sense. But he doesn't. Or at least he sure doesn't seem to. He's only interested in Mi… Oh. My. God_. "Um, Jake?"

"Yeah?"

Bella struggled to find the right words but only managed to stutter and say "ah" and "um" repeatedly. "Um, you know my school back in Phoenix was a lot bigger, right?"

"What does your school in Phoenix have to do with anything?" Jacob was clearly confused.

_Good, _Bella thought to herself, _your turn_. "It doesn't. It's just that it was, you know, really big. There were a lot of kids."

"A lot of kids at a big school in a big city. Shocking. Bella, what are you talking about?"

"Well, it's just that… you know… um, when you have that many kids… you know… you get a lot of different types of kids. Kids with different interests and different… tastes… in… other people. Different… you know… orientations."

There was absolute silence on the other end of the phone, even the background noise of several other people talking nearby came to an abrupt halt, until raucous, riotous laughter nearly drowned out Jacob's spluttered exclamations and denials.

"Well, what do you expect me to think? You call me for the first time in ages and keep asking me about _a boy _and sound absolutely ridiculously relieved that he didn't even try to get any after prom. Jeez, Jake! What did you expect me to think?"

"I wasn't asking for me!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? And it's not like it's some horrible thing, you know."

"Not for other people! I thought you'd guess I was asking for someone else! God, Bella! You of all people should…. I was asking for Leah!"

"Oh. How…. How is she?" Bella wasn't sure if it was OK for her to let him know she knew the injured wolf had been Leah, or if even that she knew that Leah _was_ a wolf, but she did want to ask about the other girl, see what was wrong. She couldn't imagine how difficult it was for her being the first girl in the history of their tribe to join the pack. Besides, Edward had said Leah felt Bella had been right to defend him to Jacob the way she had, which Bella appreciated, and with the way Leah had collapsed to the ground like that, something was definitely wrong.

Maybe Edward was wrong. Maybe she could persuade them to let Carlisle help. If it was serious, maybe she could get them to accept his help.

A sudden thought occurred to her. Unlike Edward and his brothers, Carlisle spoke much more diplomatically, tolerantly of the wolves, and he was a doctor—Hippocratic Oath and all—but what if his prejudices against the wolves ran just as deeply, just better concealed? What if they did ask his help—and he refused?

"She's good, now. She just left."

"Oh, that's good. I'm glad. So, um, where did she go?"

"Just out."

"Oh."

"So, um... Look, Bella. I gotta go."

Bella was disappointed. After the way he'd come over to see her and _licked_ her—which she still thought was gross—before the two sides started training, she'd hoped maybe they could patch up their friendship. But apparently not. He'd only called her to get his question answered for Leah. She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. The last thing she wanted was him feeling sorry for her. "I understand. Listen, Jacob, I want to apologize…for what I said. I was way out of line, and I'm really sorry."

"Yeah. Me too. I'm sorry. I swear I didn't know they were going to treat you like that. Especially with, you know…. your mom and all."

"Yeah, I know. Edward said."

In the time it took her heart to jump into her throat, Bella realized she'd said something she shouldn't have. "I mean, he said he was sure you hadn't known."

"How are you doing? About your mom, I mean."

"OK, I guess. You know, good days and bad days."

"Right, so I should get going."

"OK. Um, Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we…. You know… Are we OK?"

He hesitated like he didn't want to answer, and by the regret in his voice Bella understood he really didn't. "I'm sorry, Bella. I really am. It just doesn't work that way. It's him or me, and I'm not stupid enough to try to convince you to pick me."

"Jake, I really do love him."

"Yeah, I get it. I do know a thing or two about loving someone."

Before Bella could ask what he meant, he was gone. A lone tear slipped down her cheek, and she let it fall. Her father and Tanya had retreated into the living room after her slip up about kissing and telling, and after a few minutes of mourning her lost friendship, she wrapped her uneaten dinner in plastic and put it in the fridge and joined them.

Tanya was gone. Hunting, Bella assumed. She didn't ask.

Her father was sitting, staring at the T.V. screen. His expression was so blank, she wasn't sure he realized the game had gone to commercial. She curled up into a ball in the corner of the old couch and opened a book she knew she wasn't going to study.

Her father came back to himself with a start, surprised to see her there. "How'd it go?" he asked.

Bella kept her eyes downcast and shook her head.

The game came back on, but the M's were having such a bad season, it wasn't much help as a distraction. It reminded her of Edward's frustration with the 1918 White Sox.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," her father commented.

"Mhmm."

"You busy?"

Bella shook her head.

"I… could use your help."

Immediately perked up, Bella straightened up, hopeful there was finally something she could actually _do_. "Anything. What can I do? I want to help."

"It's not…. It's not that, Bells."

Bella deflated. "Oh."

"I need to go into Port Angeles. I was hoping you would go with me."

"Oh. Yeah, sure." It wasn't like she had anything important planned here. She could worry herself sick over Edward in Port Angeles just as well as she could here. "What do you need to do in Port Angeles?"

"I need to… um…. There's a store there." He paused, apparently fascinated by the other team hitting a three run homerun. "A jewelry store."

It took a moment for Bella to catch on, but when she did, she set her book down and straightened up again.

"I was hoping you could help me pick something out."

"For Tanya? Yeah, Dad. Sure. Um, what did you have in mind? A necklace? Bracelet?"

"No. Um…. A ring."

Bella jumped up off the couch and hugged her father, grinning from ear to ear.

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The jewelry store was a little place two blocks away from the movie theater. Painted a deep red, it had large, mullioned windows with bright white trim and window boxes overflowing with a dozen of different kinds of flowers and trailing ivy so perfect, they didn't seem real. They pulled up and parked at a meter nearly directly in front.

Like Bella herself, her father was normally quiet, but so far today he'd only spoken five words: 'Morning, Bells' and 'Well, let's go.'

As happy as she was for him, and as much as she loved Tanya, Bella couldn't help imagining her father doing this once before. Had Billy gone with him that time? Is that why he came to Port Angeles instead of going to the jewelry store in Forks? Avoiding old memories? Old ghosts?

When they entered the shop, a small brass bell chimed above them. The store was in a touristy area and had a large selection of handmade jewelry from local artists. There were only two other people in the store, a young couple, the woman admiring beaded necklaces made from anything imaginable, silver, carved wood, glass, ceramic….

Beside Bella, just steps inside the door, her father fidgeted. She looked at him and smiled. He carried a loaded gun to work every day, but the inside of a jewelry store made him a nervous wreck.

"Dad, I think the engagement rings are over there." Bella pointed to the back corner of the shop where two nicer than average doctor's-office-waiting-room style chairs were placed in front of a display case.

A grandmotherly little old lady came over, smiling at them as they stood looking at the rings. There were _so_ _many_. Different sized stones, different shaped stones, different metals, rings with stones already mounted, rings without stones already mounted, contemporary rings, old-fashioned vintage-styled rings, traditional single solitaires, rings with multiple stones, simple rings, elaborate rings…. It was dizzying.

Bella's eyes drifted to the vintage styled rings.

She could hear Edward's voice as he told her how much marriage meant to him; she could see the longing way he'd looked at her as he spoke. Marriage might not mean to her what it meant to him, but maybe that wasn't what mattered. Maybe all that mattered was how much it meant to him. And it meant the world to him.

"This is an eternity style ring. The stones wrap all around the band."

Bella's attention returned to the elderly sales lady as she showed her father ring number one. She wondered how old the woman was. Definitely in her seventies. Maybe even eighties. Still, she had to be a good twenty to thirty years younger than Edward. Bella glanced down. There was a wedding ring on her left hand.

"There are sure a lot to choose from," her father said. Bella looked up. Her father was rubbing the back of his neck. Edward wasn't the only person who cared about marriage. Her father did, too. And so had her mother. When they'd been together, they hadn't just lived together, they'd gotten married. Even after the failure of their first marriage, both of her parents had still believed in marriage.

"Oh, yes. When my Howard and I opened this store, there wasn't nearly such a selection," the saleswoman responded.

Bella's eyes returned to the gold band on the woman's hand. "Is Howard your husband?"

"Oh, yes, dear. He's passed on now, of course."

"I'm so sorry."

Faded blue eyes sparkled up at her. "Oh, no use spending your life crying. We had a good run of it, we did. Fifty-two years we had together. Good years. Happy years. Not to say the old rolling pin didn't come out a fair few times, mind you." Twenty years seemed to magically melt of the old woman's face as she spoke of her life with her husband. "But we had a good time, we did." The woman's eyes moved to the man working with the young couple, ringing up their purchase. "My son runs this place now, but he humors his old mother and lets me come in now and then."

As the woman's attention returned to her father, Bella smiled. _Humors her. I wouldn't be surprised if she was the top salesperson._

"Did you see anything in particular you liked, sir?"

Her father looked at her helplessly. "Bells?"

Bella returned her attention to the rings on display. "There's just so many," she said, feeling distracted, her eyes drifting back to the vintage styled rings.

"You're a big help, kiddo."

Bella heard the saleslady asking her dad questions about Tanya's taste, what jewelry she wore normally, but their voices faded away as Bella's mind wandered. She was remembering what Alice had said while she was helping her get dressed before her big date with Edward, about if Bella had lived during Edward's lifetime in 1918. She was imagining herself in a long gown entering a large ballroom on Edward's arm. She was imagining herself in a white blouse with a lace collar and a dark skirt in the photograph with Violet, Lillian, and Irene. Imagining herself in Edward's backyard while his mother cut bouquets of lavender from the beds alongside their house. Imagining the two of them on the back porch, sharing homemade strawberry ice cream and lemonade. She was imagining herself cheering and clapping as Edward and little Charlie tossed a baseball back and forth. She was imagining the two of them sneaking off together and hiding when no one was looking, Edward taking her in his arms and kissing her without having to hold any of himself back.

She was imagining Edward getting down on one knee with a ring in his hand—

"Bella?"

"Yes."

"This the one?"

Bella was abruptly ripped from her daydream. Her father was talking to her, asking her something. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"What about this one? Do you think she'll like this one?"

Her father handed her a simple but elegant ring. The ring was platinum with an emerald cut stone flanked by bezel set marquise cut stones resembling leaves and small round stones channel set along the band.

Bella's throat felt constricted, but it had nothing to do with the ring in her hand and everything to do with the one in her daydream. "It's beautiful, Dad. I think it's perfect. Classic. Timeless. And, you know…. That's important. That it doesn't go out of style, because, you know, she's going to be wearing it for a… a _really_ long time."

Her father and the saleslady finished the sale, but Bella didn't see or hear anything. The only thing she could see was Edward as he was in her daydream, down on one knee in front of her, a ring in his hand, his eyes seeing only her. The only thing she could hear was her own voice answering without hesitation, without reservation. "Yes."

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Only five chapter left!

Well, what did you think?

Everyone happy to see Jake back? Well, sort of back, anyway.

Bella's coming around on the idea of marriage. Not as something she wants for herself maybe, but she's at least recognizing how very important it is to Edward. Think Edward might come around on the idea of her being changed? I've had reviewers question why he's opposed to her being changed now when he'd been ready to change her before. The difference is that her life was in danger then, or at least he was afraid it might have been. He didn't know how badly she'd been injured, and just like they say, a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. With his medical degrees, Edward knows just how dangerous a head injury can be, and he was imagining the worst case scenarios. His mate's life may've been in danger, and he was ready to do whatever he needed to save her. There hadn't been time or room in his head to think of his hang ups. But now that there is no imminent risk—he truly doesn't see Victoria and her newborns as a risk his family can't protect her from—he's able to think, and all his hang ups are back in place. Does that make sense?

Drop me a review and let me know what you think!


	46. Chapter 46

Sorry for the delay! Now that we're getting right down to the wire, I'm finding that I'm having trouble letting go, and I spent way too long fiddling around with this chapter before I sent it off to my betas. (But if you all knew just which scene it was that I spent that time adding, I hope you'd think it was worth the wait!)

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus, who I'm glad to say is back from vacation. Welcome back, Secretly Severus!

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Sitting on their front porch waiting for them when Bella and Charlie pulled into the driveway, was Alice. For a moment Bella's heart froze until she registered the knowing smile on the petite vampire's face. Of course, she realized, Alice had seen her father's decision.

The moment they stepped out of the car the crack-addicted butterfly was on them. "Cousins! Oh, I'm so happy! We're going to be cousins!" Alice went back and forth between the two, hugging and congratulating them both. "Now, Charlie. Tanya will be back by three o'clock. I hope you don't mind, but I knew you wouldn't, so I went ahead and ordered some flowers. They'll be here in about an hour. Fifty-seven minutes to be precise." She winked at Charlie. "And there are some other surprises for you in there too. Look upstairs."

Turning to Bella, she said, "You're staying with us for the weekend." Alice briefly turned back to Charlie and winked again. "Again, I knew you wouldn't mind." Alice looked back to Bella, barely able to control her excitement. "It'll be so great! Just like a real sleepover party! I've never had a sleepover. Well, you'll sleep anyway. I've packed a bag for you—it's already in the trunk." More sternly, she added, "And your books are in there, too. I won't have you failing your finals, young lady. Not on my watch."

Bella and her father stood rooted to the spot trying to keep up with Alice; sometimes when she was excited, it was hard for her to remember to slow down for the humans, but they managed to get the gist of it and knew better than to argue. At times like this, when she was excited, Alice resembled a tiny brunette tornado.

She linked her arm through Bella's and, with one last wink at Charlie, Alice led her to the black Mercedes parked across the street. "This is going to be such fun!"

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That night at the Cullens' house, Bella sat on the leather couch in Edward's room, which had once again been made up into a bed for her, clutching a pillow to her chest. Alice and she had spent the day trying on clothes and watching movies. Bella admitted to herself it had been fun; she'd never had a sleepover before either.

And Alice had managed to keep her busy enough so that she didn't spend the entire day worrying herself sick about Edward.

They'd made popcorn, which Bella ate while Alice cringed. That part had been especially fun— Bella had opened her mouth wide and popped the buttery, white clouds in, exaggerating chewing them. And the s'mores. Alice had flinched every time Bella licked at the melting chocolate. They'd ordered pizzas—six of them. It was wasteful, but the pretense of a family of seven, including five teenagers plus a guest, had to be maintained. Bella and her father would be eating pizza for dinner for days.

But now it was late, and the two friends sat together in Edward's room talking quietly.

"Alice?"

"Hmmm"

"How old are you? I'm sorry if I'm being nosy. I just, you know, wondered."

"It's fine, Bella. I was born in 1901."

"The same as Edward." Bella felt a pang of jealousy—ridiculous, really, but Alice had lived at the same time as Edward.

"I'm two years older. Or two years younger, depending on how you look at it. My family lived in Mississippi, in Biloxi."

"Were you…. When Carlisle changed you, were you sick, too?"

Alice's whole countenance changed. She stared out the window before dropping her eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Alice. I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's fine. It wasn't Carlisle. It was someone else. I never knew his name."

Talking about this was clearly upsetting to Alice, and again Bella tried to apologize for bringing it up, but Alice continued.

"I guess you could say I really am adopted. I was…. I had premonitions as a human, too. Not as strong. And I couldn't control it. My father didn't like it. He tried to hide it, hide me. He thought it was wrong, unnatural, that I was unnatural. After my mother died, he… he told everyone in town I had gone mad. He… had me locked up. Committed to a psychiatric hospital. Only it wasn't a hospital—not like a psychiatric hospital today. It was… not a pleasant place to be.

"There was a man who worked there at night. He was nice to me. I never knew why. I remember, I was afraid of him. But he was only ever nice to me. He snuck treats in to me. Fruit, sweets. He tried to protect me, shield me from the… treatments. But he only worked at night."

Alice's hand drifted to her short black hair, and she twisted the spiky strands around her fingertips. "They shaved my head. I had such long hair. Down to my waist. They shaved it all off."

Bella's lip trembled, picturing Alice dressed like Edward's friends, brushing her long hair, carefully pulling it back, sweeping it up and twisting it elaborately on top of her head, pinning it up with beautiful combs.

"One night… I had a vision… about myself, but it made no sense. I was terrified, because I thought I really had gone mad. I was shaking and crying. He heard me crying and came to check on me. I was more afraid of the vision than I was of him, and I broke down and told him what I'd seen.

"Without saying a word, he grabbed me and ran, and then I was sure I'd gone mad, because no one could do what he did. He scaled the wall, opened a window, and jumped to the roof. All this in the blink of an eye and while holding me over his shoulder. He ran with me until we were deep in the woods, and then he told me how sorry he was, but that it would all be okay soon. And then he bit me."

"Edward told me… about changing."

"He was there with me for I don't know how long, talking to me, until the other one came. The one I'd seen in my vision. He'd come for me. Not just for his next meal, but for me specifically, for his next victim. I don't know why or how. I probably never will. My friend fought him, but the other one was stronger.

"Through the pain I heard… horrible things. Screeching. Smashing. And then it was quiet. And then I smelled smoke. I heard the flames, and even through the burning of the change, I could feel the heat from the fire, and I knew enough to fear it. When I woke up, it was still burning.

"I was terrified. I felt so horribly guilty. The other one, the stranger… he'd killed my friend but left me. If I'd woken up just a little sooner, I could've helped. I could've fought the stranger, too. My friend was killed because of me, because he tried to protect me, and I don't even know his name."

Bella didn't know when the tears started, but she wiped them away on her shirt sleeve.

"He was the reason I chose right away to never fee— You know. He chose to protect me, a human, and it cost him his life. In my vision, I saw what the other one wanted to do to me, and having anything at all in common with him repulsed me. It was so hard, though. Bella, Edward doesn't want this life for you for a very good reason. Resisting is, especially when you're young, all but impossible."

"But you did it."

"I had an advantage. Advantag_es_—two of them, two motives. Almost immediately, I started having visions. I saw Jasper first. Then I saw Carlisle. I knew they were out there, and I set out to find them. I don't know what surprised Jasper more when I finally found him—my telling him he'd kept me waiting for a long time, or the color of my eyes."

In a few moments, Alice was back to her normal cheerful self, but Bella had a harder time trying to stop thinking about the story Alice had just told her. She understood her friend's feelings, the guilt she felt because she hadn't been able to help the friend who'd saved her. It was too close to how she felt knowing everyone but her had something to do to fight against Victoria.

And now, because of her, they were a person down.

Right now, Alice's exuberance was too much for her. All the worry Bella had tried to push aside all day came crashing down on her like a tidal wave, pushing her down, holding her down, not letting her come up for air. She wanted to be alone. "Alice, I'm really tired."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Bella. Of course you are. You should've said something earlier. Edward is right. It is easy to forget. I will let you get some sleep, and I will see you in the morning."

"Thanks, Alice."

Alice closed the door quietly behind her after again making sure Bella had everything she needed and wishing her "sweet dreams" in a wistful voice.

Curled up on her makeshift bed, Bella was surrounded by Edward's things, things from both his life as a human and his life as a vampire, but she felt so very far away from him.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine she could feel Edward's strong, cold arms around her, holding her safely against him, his body next to hers, absorbing her heat.

He was out there somewhere with his brothers and Carlisle. She didn't even know what state he was in. He'd texted her every two hours, just like she'd made him promise, but he hadn't given her any news, just told her he was fine and that he loved her.

She yawned deeply. She hadn't lied to Alice. It was nearly midnight, and she really was tired. Looking at her phone, Bella went to her inbox and tried to let his messages calm her, but it wasn't the same as hearing his voice. He hadn't sent her a text since ten. It had been nearly two hours, but he probably expected her to be asleep by now. She wanted to tell him she loved him one last time. She hit send and set her phone down on the floor next to the couch before trying to get comfortable, but her body recognized where she was and missed his. Any way she tried to lie felt wrong without him next to her. After fifteen minutes of rolling one way then the other her phone rang, and she reached for it.

_I love you, too. But why aren't you sleeping? It's nearly midnight. Alice shouldn't have kept you up this late,_ the text read.

_It's not Alice's fault. I can't sleep_.

_Neither can I. But please try. I'll talk to you in the morning, love. I'll be back as soon as possible._

Bella lay back down and tried again to sleep, but sleep would not come. She got up and tried to figure out how to work Edward's elaborate sound system, finally filling the room with the music he'd played for her on their date, but she still couldn't sleep. She tried counting sheep. She tried to clear her mind and focus on the quiet darkness of the night. But she couldn't sleep.

Getting up again, she paced the room. Staring across the room at what she now knew was the concealed door to Edward's walk-in closet, a thought occurred to her, and she stripped out of her t-shirt and sweat pants and changed clothes. Climbing back under the blanket, Bella sighed and yawned.

She thought about her father, the way he looked as he held the ring he'd picked out for Tanya in his hand.

Curling up and wrapping her arms around herself, she buried her face in the pillows, smiling as she finally drifted off to sleep.

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It was nearly eight o'clock in the morning by the time Edward and the others returned to Forks. He could hear his mate's heartbeat as they approached the house, and leaving the others to update the rest of the family on what they'd found, he leapt to the small balcony outside his room and entered through the French doors.

His Bella was curled on her side, snuggled so deeply into the covers that only the top of her head and a sliver of her face were visible. Edward closed his eyes and allowed the scent of her and the sound of her beating heart to fill him. He imagined that from where he stood, he could feel the warmth emanating from her body and seeping into his own. They were back several hours earlier than he'd dared hope, but it had still been too long to be away from his mate.

Deeply asleep, she had not stirred when he'd entered, and soundlessly, Edward crossed the room to kneel beside her. A t-shirt and sweatpants were crumpled in a pile beside the couch. He picked up the shirt and looked at it questioningly, before returning it to the floor to be put away later.

Without disturbing her, he shifted her blankets to allow him to see her face fully. Relaxed in slumber, her rosebud lips were parted slightly. Her skin had a warm, pink flush from being so nestled in the blankets. Her eyes were motionless behind their closed lids; she was not dreaming. Her breathing was deep and even. She was glorious. So soft, so innocent.

The conversation he'd had with his brothers and father while scouting dominated his thoughts.

They'd been in South Dakota, running through the Black Hills National Forest and approaching the border with Wyoming, following the trail of Victoria and her newborns southwest from Rapid City. It had been Carlisle who'd first broached the subject Edward least wanted to discuss by recalling one of Alice's recent visions—Bella as a newborn, racing Edward through the Alaskan wilderness. Edward had seen the vision in his sister's mind and knew every last detail of it. His mate laughed tauntingly as she gracefully leapt and ran through the dense woods, calling out to him, teasing him that he couldn't catch her. She wore a wool sweater and jeans in the vision. She bore the remains of her hunt, and her sweater was torn in numerous places; one spot on the side had been torn away completely. Her prey had put up a fight; definitely not a deer.

Edward had inhaled sharply at the sudden reminder of the vision, and Carlisle had apologized but tentatively added, "Alice said Bella was happy, Edward."

Edward couldn't argue that; his mate's face had been radiant. But she could be happy as a human, too. "Did she happen to see if Bella was also happy while the venom burned through every cell in her body?"

Sympathetically and full of understanding, Carlisle had consoled him. "Watching first you undergo the change, then Esme…" As he pronounced his mate's name, Carlisle's voice held the all the anguish Edward had heard in his mind while he'd held his beloved in his arms as the venom changed her body. "…then again with Rosalie and Emmett, was as bad as enduring it again myself. But as unspeakably difficult as it is, it isn't forever. It _does_ end."

Jasper had said, "She's resolute, Edward. She is not going to back down. Times have changed. You know this. You cannot decide for her."

"I'm not trying to decide for her," Edward had responded.

"You said, 'I said, no. Absolutely not.' You're hurting her by not considering what she wants, not accepting that this is ultimately her decision," Jasper'd cautioned.

Edward had cringed at Jasper's words. He regretted his words that day in the woods. In his horror at learning what she'd been considering, he'd been unable to think clearly, and he knew he'd hurt her by his reaction. But how could he apologize when he'd meant what he'd said? He was sorry only for the way he'd said it, not for being against the idea. He had to plan out his arguments much better, make her understand how much better off she was to give up the notion altogether.

He'd been constructing his arguments carefully, planning word for word how best to make his mate see things his way—traits he didn't know he'd inherited from both of his birth parents—when Emmett's thoughts had stopped him in his tracks.

_Bella's not Rosalie, Edward. _

Edward had looked at his brother.

_She won't resent you for changing her. But she may resent you if you refuse to even talk to her about it. Part of having a mate is having to accept your mate as she is. I know how much Rosalie struggles, how bitter she feels sometimes. The one thing she's always wanted—a child—she can never have. And I have to live knowing I can never give her what she most wants. But Bella is not Rosalie, Edward. She wants different things. _

_She's able to make the decision that Rosalie wasn't, that none of us were. You have a responsibility to your mate to answer her questions, even if you don't like them, so that she can make that decision knowing all the facts—the impartial facts, not tilted to your point of view. The biggest mistakes you can make are to ignore her feelings or to skew your answers to persuade her to do what you want her to. Glad as I am that you're finally getting some, having a mate is not _all_ sex, you know. It takes work. _

His mind returning to the present, Edward lowered his eyes. Emmett could always be counted on to make you laugh, but sometimes, his simple way of seeing things gave him a clearer view than others had—others like himself, who overthought things. Had Edward been letting the acrimony Rosalie felt for what she'd suffered, the grief she felt for the loss of all things she'd hoped to one day have influence him?

He didn't want this life for his Bella. That, he was sure of; that hadn't changed. But had he been afraid she would resent him for changing her once she realized all she'd lost—as he had resented his mother for so long for the decision she had made for him?

Or would she come to resent him for refusing?

The image of his mate's face from Alice's vision, her ruby red eyes glittering happily as she tore through the densely wooded Alaskan wilderness was undeniably a happy one. But, his mind returning to the moment as he watched his mate sleep, he thought to himself as he had earlier—she could be happy as a human, too.

Her eyes had begun dancing behind their delicate lids; she was dreaming, and Edward watched her, mesmerized by her as always. What he wouldn't give to have a peek inside her mind, to see what she was dreaming.

As he sat beside her, Bella's breathing began to change; she was waking up. His Bella sighed and stretched, rolling onto her stomach, her arm now resting above the blanket and pushing the remembrance of both his discussion with his father and brothers and the vision that had started it from his mind.

Gently, Edward let his fingers run up and down her spine and play with the sleeve of the t-shirt she wore.

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Bella was having the most wonderful dream, but it was fading. Hard as she tried, she couldn't hold on to it. Awake now, she tried to lock what little she could remember of her dream into her mind, not wanting to lose it completely. She could remember sunshine… and swimming with Edward in the ocean. She could remember the warmth of the water, the smell of the salt in the air. She could remember the sunlight bouncing off his skin like brilliant rainbows cast by countless diamonds… but she couldn't remember whether those rainbows were being cast from her own skin as well. She could remember the freedom, not having to hide from anyone. Wherever they were in her dream, there had been no one else, no one to see them.

Bella sighed and stretched. The sun lit the room, and she could see the brightness through her closed eyelids. It wasn't the bright, clear sunshine of her dream, but the clouds must've been thin.

It had been a really good dream. She could still feel Edward's icy fingers trailing up her spine, down her arm… playing with the sleeve of the t-shirt she'd slept in.

_Wait…_.

Bella's eyes flew open. Edward was sitting only inches from her, and she threw herself at him, crashing her mouth against his.

"Mmm. Good morning, beautiful. You need to be careful though, love, you could end up knocking a tooth loose," Edward chided her between kisses.

"You're back. I didn't think you'd be back 'til later."

"I said I'd be back as soon as possible."

"You're really back. You're really here." _You're safe._

His fingers played with the edge of her sleeve. "Might I ask why you're wearing my shirt? Not that it doesn't look better on you, mind."

Bella smirked at him and pushed the covers off. "I missed you."

At the sight of his mate lying there wearing not only one of his t-shirt, but his boxers as well, Edward's eyes widened and dilated, and it was not until much later that either spoke in full sentences again.

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With Edward's arms around her again, Bella traced her fingers along his bicep, down his forearm, across the back of his hand and fingers. "I've been thinking… about what we talked about the other day."

"Which day?"

"In the woods."

Edward was not ready to have this discussion so soon after being confronted by Emmett's words. "Bella—"

"No, not that. I meant, I've been thinking about what _you_ talked about."

There was a moment's hesitation before Edward spoke. "What I talked about?"

She looked at him and joined their hands, linking their fingers together. "Yes," she said pointedly.

Her Edward's eyes filled with wonder as they looked into hers before the corners creased with doubt. "Why?" he asked skeptically.

"My dad asked Tanya to marry him yesterday."

"I know. But what does that have to do with us?"

Bella bit her lip, trying to think of how to explain. "Edward, I won't pretend that marriage means to me what it does to you. It can't. It just wasn't… the ideal… the universal ideal… I grew up with. For you it was. In the world you grew up in it was virtually taken for granted that a person would marry. It was just… the structure of your world. It was practically a requirement, so expected of them that people probably rarely even considered not marrying—girls especially. Even after you were changed, it was still the way the world you were surrounded by worked. In my world—in my house especially—it just wasn't like that. It was just the opposite.

"Edward, your parents' marriage was a happy one—even if you can't _remember_ it, you still _know_ that. But my parents' _wasn't_. Nothing good came of my parents' marriage. My mom regretted it, saw it as an impulsive mistake. My dad… I don't think my dad ever recovered from my mom leaving him and taking me until Tanya came into his life. Did you know he kept their wedding picture on the wall for years? For _years_, Edward. The only thing that came out of their marriage was regret and hurt.

"And even outside my family, the divorce rate is, what, fifty percent? Higher?"

"I understand all that, Bella. I really do. What I don't understand is you seem to…. Just now it seemed like you… felt differently."

"The divorce rate is fifty percent. _But people keep getting married anyway_. Even though there must be some logical part of their brain that tells them they're facing, at best, an even chance of failing, _they do it anyway_. They think it's important enough to _try_. Even my parents."

Bella went on to confess something she didn't realize herself until just that moment. "And I think… I was afraid. I was afraid to give someone that much power over me, to hurt me as badly as my mom hurt my dad. What if he cheated on me? What if after saying everything and making all the vows you talked about in the woods that day in front of everyone we knew, what if he left me? How could I ever get over that? But I _know_ you, Edward. I _trust_ you. There are no 'what if's.'"

Edward couldn't even blink. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was too good to be true. If it was possible for him to sleep, he would be certain he was dreaming. He'd imagined this moment so many times, so many different ways, but nothing he'd imagined could begin to compare with the reality of this moment. He was still afraid to believe it was real.

"Marry me, Bella."

"Yes."

She'd said yes. Edward was breathless, speechless. His Bella had said yes. She'd said yes without hesitation, with no reservation. Before his brain even caught up to the fact that he'd spoken the words, his mate had said yes. His eyes drank her in, her face, her hair, her smile, her eyes, her scent—her scent, mixed with his own.

Every detail of this moment would be forever burned into his brain, but he was still afraid there was something, some minute detail he would miss, something he wouldn't remember. The way her fingers felt twisted with his, the way her foot felt against his leg. "I love you so much. I wanted…. I had so many things…. I've imagined this so many times. There were so many things I wanted to say, to tell you. But I all I can think of is how very much I love you."

Bella raised their joined hands to her lips and pressed her lips to his left ring finger. "That's all I need to hear."

"A ring. The ring. I need…." Edward hurried to his closet to his mother's jewelry box, returning less than a second later and kneeling in front of her. "May I?"

Bella smiled at him and held up her left hand for him.

"Isabella Swan, I will love you as long as I live. You have made me happier than I ever thought possible. You changed an existence to a life. I promise to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you have made me."

Edward slid his mother's ring on the third finger of his mate's left hand.

Bella's eyes had stayed locked on Edward's as he'd spoken and drifted down to their hands as he slid the ring on, a tear slipping down her cheek, her breath catching in her throat. "Edward… it's beautiful. It's…. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Set in white gold, the center diamond was oval shaped and set lengthwise. It was flanked by small round diamonds set in a fluted U shaped ribbon of gold. Small pear shaped stones at the curve of the U finished off the ring. Thanks to Carlisle memories of her, Edward could picture the ring on his mother's hand in perfect detail, and he could see it on her hand as she stood next to his father in their wedding portrait.

As beautiful as it had been on his mother's hand, Edward thought it was a hundred times more beautiful still on his Bella's.

She kissed him, and Edward could feel the cold metal of the back of the ring against his skin. She tangled one hand in his hair, the other sliding down his stomach, lower till she reached his erection and ran her fingers along his length. "How long do we have till Alice breaks the door down?" she asked suggestively.

"Jaz… has her… distracted."

"Need to thank him." _I can't wait till our wedding night. I can't wait to really make love with you, to feel you inside me. _

Edward tore himself away. It took everything he had to stop, even just for a moment. This was just one more thing he couldn't give her. "Bella, we can't."

Her soft, warm fingers continued to stroke him. "Yes, we can. We have time. And we are _engaged_ now, you know."

"No, I mean… what… what you said…. We can't… do that. I can't do that. I can't give you… that."

Confused, Bella sat back. "What are you talking about?"

"Bella, I can't… do that. We can't…."

"Do what? All I said was we need to thank Jasper."

"No, Bella. What… you said… about… our wedding night."

Bella's eyes widened. She looked at him so intently, so seriously, Edward began to worry. "Bella, love, what is it?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Dearest, you didn't say anything."

"I know, I know. But I _thought_ something. I tried to make you hear it."

"Bella, I can't hear you. You know that."

She shook her head, a wide, proud smile on her face. "But you did. You did. Edward, I didn't say that out loud. I _thought_ it. And you heard me."

"I heard you?"

"Yeah," Bella laughed.

The look of thrilled wonder in Edward's eyes was like that of child creeping downstairs in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve and finding Santa stepping out of the chimney. "I really heard you?"

"Yeah, you really did."

The elation, the feeling of connection, of intimacy from hearing Bella's thoughts for the first time was beyond words.

He wondered if it was a coincidence that the one and only of her thoughts he'd ever been able to hear had been shortly after she agreed to be his wife, had been the thought of consummating their marriage. In agreeing to be his wife, in wanting to fully give herself to him in that way, had she, unknowingly, somehow let him through the shield that protected her mind from him? Had wanting their lives and their bodies to be joined so fully and intimately allowed their minds to be joined as well, if for however brief a moment?

As a vampire, Edward's mind could process multiple thoughts at the same time, and right now, the part of his brain that had been cultivated by having Jasper as a brother for so many decades was pondering what his Bella might be capable of doing with her shield as a vampire, regardless of how opposed to the idea he remained. While his own gift—although it often felt like more of a curse—was general in nature, meaning he could hear the thoughts of everyone around him, he could, if needed, focus on one person out of thousands and push all the other thoughts buzzing inside his head to the background. Likewise, Jasper could influence the emotions of a large crowd or on one specific person within that crowd.

If they could focus on one specific person, could Bella do the reverse? Could she _exclude_ one specific person? Or would it be more accurate to question, could she _include_ one specific person? Pull one person—or maybe even multiple people—inside her shield with her?

Disgusted with himself for even contemplating what advantage his Bella might bring to his family if she were to become like him, Edward pushed his musings down. But that freed his mind and allowed him to feel the full weight of what the thought he'd heard had been.

"Edward? What is it? What's wrong?" his mate—his _fiancée—_asked.

Had he been wrong to ask her to marry him knowing he could never truly be a husband to her?

"Edward, you're scaring me."

He shook his head and had a hard time meeting her eyes. "I can't…. I can't make love to you, Bella."

"You won't hurt me. Edward, you are so gentle with me. We'll just… take it slow."

She had too much confidence in him.

"I don't care if we have to try and try and try. We'll try all night if we have to," she promised seductively. Her voice was happy, sanguine. There was no fear, only her absolute faith in him.

But she was wrong. Not that he wasn't terrified of the very real possibility that he could hurt her—he was—but there was another reason, a reason she had to understand given… given what they'd done together, given what she'd seen. She just didn't realize what it was she'd seen. "It's not that—not that that isn't a very real possibility regardless of your over confidence in me."

"Then what is it?"

"Bella…. You already know. You've seen… when we… when I…."

Edward couldn't bring himself to look at her, too afraid of the look of revulsion in those precious brown eyes, but he could still tell the moment she understood—he could feel the slight shifting of her body, the slight catch of her breath.

"It's venom, isn't it? When you… come. It's your venom. That's what you called it, right? When you explained how Carlisle bit you?"

Nodding his head was difficult enough, speaking was impossible. Bella fell silent. What he wouldn't give for another peak into her mind.

"Would that… would that work?" she asked.

Edward flinched and met her eyes. She was… intrigued was the best word to describe it, he thought. He did not have a good feeling about this. He'd almost rather she be repulsed by him. Almost, but not quite. "Work?" he asked.

"Well, I'm just saying, it would beat the hell out of being bitten."

Before Edward could say anything, she leaned forward and silenced him with a kiss.

"We'll just have to improvise, then. You'll just have to use your fingers."

The image that conjured up in Edward's mind wiped out every other thought, and he growled, pushing her back onto the couch, and giving her a preview of just what he could do to her with his fingers.

With his right hand, Edward trailed his fingertips up and down the outside of her thigh. "Is this what you had in mind?" he asked.

"Not exactly."

"Oh?" Edward's fingers moved to her stomach, circling her navel. "This then?"

"Uh-uh," Bella said, shifting and stretching, arching her back teasingly.

Edward's hand moved first to her left breast, circling her nipple before gently, carefully rolling the pebbled skin between his thumb and index finger. "How about this?"

"Mmmm," Bella hummed. "Better, but not what I had in mind."

His face turned serious, and he spoke slowly. "If I hurt you—"

Bella cut him off, taking his hand and bringing it to her face, pressing a kiss to his palm. She said, "I'll tell you to stop. I promise." She released his hand and took a deep breath. She knew Edward was nervous to attempt this—hell, she was too, but she couldn't let it show; her nervousness wasn't because she was afraid. Her heart was beating ferociously in her chest, and she knew he had to be able to hear it. Edward pressed his fingers to her lips, and she kissed them, wondering if he could feel her pulse in her kiss.

Edward's eyes ran over his Bella's body stretched out beside him. Every time he touched her, he had to be so careful, reminding himself continuously to be gentle, reminding himself just how fragile his angel was. He was terrified of hurting her, of losing control over his strength. But, he told himself, he'd once been terrified of touching her at all, just taking her hand, touching her face—the thought of kissing her had seemed impossible.

Until she'd kissed him, and it had been the most indescribably wonderful feeling in the world.

His darling Bella's soft, warm lips had pressed against his, her delicate body had pressed against his. They'd progressed into a physical relationship he never in his wildest dreams would've dared thought possible, expressing their love for each other as other couples—normal couples—had done throughout time. But no other couple had ever loved each other as he and Bella loved each other, of that he was certain.

Slowly, relishing in the warmth of her skin against his, Edward let his hand travel slowly down his mate's body. He held his breath. The scent of her arousal was too strong; he couldn't risk it clouding his mind, causing his control to slip. He studied every inch of her skin, reassuring himself he could do this. They'd been intimate that morning already, and there was not a single mark beginning to mar her porcelain skin. The worst marks he'd left on her had been that first time, and even they—as horrified as he was that he'd bruised her at all—had not been so very bad, he could now admit to himself. He'd seen Bella bump her knee and not even know it was bruised until the next day before.

He played with her breasts; the sounds she made vibrating though his hand and up his arm.

He traced his fingers over her ribs, loving the way she would flinch when he hit a ticklish spot on her side.

Slowly, he allowed his hand to reach its destination, and he trailed his fingers along the sensitive skin just above the dark curls. She trusted him to do this without hurting her; he had to trust himself that he could give her this—that he could give them both this.

Being careful, always so careful, Edward slid his fingers over the bundle of nerves that always made his angel cry out; gently, back and forth he played with her, drawing out the most intoxicating sounds from his love.

_If you were to change her, you wouldn't have to be so careful. You wouldn't have to be careful at all. You would be free to love her like you want to, like she wants you to, without fear, without holding back. _

The traitorous thought had sprung into Edward's head out of nowhere, and appalled at himself for thinking such a thing at such a moment, even as just a passing thought, he flung himself across the room.

Bella pushed herself up onto her elbows and watched him carefully. She held his eyes with her own, looking at him so intently he wondered if she might be attempting to let him see into her mind again. It was just the sort of thing his Bella would do, he knew—show him how much faith she had in him rather than settle for telling him once again.

He would control himself. He _could_ control himself. He had to. He had to deserve the faith she had in him.

And under no circumstances would he allow such a thought to enter his head again.

"I'm alright now. I just… needed a moment, but I'm alright now." That was all he was able to say before he ran out of air.

Bella relaxed back against the couch and smiled at him reassuringly.

Edward knelt beside her and touched his mate's knee, sliding his hand up her leg. Her own hand pressed against his arm, her thumb stroking him. She didn't say a word; she didn't need to. He knew she loved him. He knew she trusted him.

He needed to show her that trust was justified.

Sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh, Edward positioned his thumb over her clitoris, massaging her, watching the pleasure build in her beautiful brown eyes. Still holding his breath, not willing to allow the drug of the scent of her arousal to distract him for even a fraction of a second, Edward positioned the tip of his middle finger over her opening and slowly slid it a fraction of an inch inside.

Shaking with restraint, he withdrew his finger and circled it around the sensitive skin. He kept his eyes trained on Bella's face, watching for any sign of pain. There was none. There was only the wonder and love he felt for her and knew was expressed on his own face reflected back at him.

Carefully, he repeated the action, his finger entering her body a little further before withdrawing.

"You can't imagine how that feels, to have part of you inside me. You can't imagine how that feels." Bella's voice shook as she spoke.

Edward wished he could tell her how it felt to have a part of his body inside hers—even if it wasn't the part he most wanted to bury inside her—but as he slid his finger inside her once again, further this time, he knew no words could ever describe it adequately. Her body was so warm, so tight and wet around his finger.

All the while his finger slid in and out of her, his thumb continued to stroke her. He pulled his finger out and circled it around her opening before sliding it back in. Over and over he did this, until, when his finger was inside her to the second knuckle, his mate whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. He could feel her body tightening around his finger, and he picked up his speed, both with his thumb and his finger. He could feel the wetness escaping her body and covering his hand—it wasn't just warm, it was hot.

As Bella cried out her orgasm, crying out his name and her love for him, Edward tore the arm of the couch with his free hand. Her heart racing and her breathing rapid, she looked between Edward and the ruined end of the couch in concern. Catching her breath, she assured him, "It's just a couch."

After making sure there was no blood from his actions before he dared inhale, Edward nodded his head. She was right—it was just a couch. He'd done it. He'd put his finger inside her and hadn't hurt her. He looked at his hand—the fingers that had been inside his beloved's body, had felt the pleasure he'd given her as she'd tightened around him. Nodding his head, he agreed and said, "Alice has been wanting to buy a proper bed anyway."

.

.

Sitting on the floor wrapped in blankets and curled up against Edward's chest as he sat with his back against the ruined couch, the two talked quietly about unimportant things until finally Bella had to say, "I wish I could stay right here with you all day, but nature calls." The look of confusion on Edward's face was priceless, but he wasn't moving and she really, really needed to use the bathroom. "I need to pee," she clarified.

Bella kissed the tip of his nose. She strongly suspected that if he could, Edward would be blushing from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck. Girls in his time hadn't "needed to pee," they'd "had to powder their nose."

"Is the hallway to the bathroom still an Alice-free zone?" Bella threw the t-shirt she'd slept in back on and looked back at him, winking as she opened the door. "You do know I'm keeping this, right?"

Not wanting to tempt fate with Alice, Bella took care of things as quickly as possible and hurried back to Edward's room.

"You know, that's an awfully big shower, I bet two could…. You're dressed." Bella's shoulders slumped; Edward was just buttoning his shirt. Rationally, she knew they couldn't stay in bed together all day, but she wasn't ready for their alone time to end.

"I'm sorry, love. There will be plenty of time once Victoria is dealt with."

"But how long will that take? You didn't find anything. We still don't know where she is and…. Edward?"

Edward had a way of not looking at her when there was something he didn't want to tell her, and right now he was very resolutely not looking at her in a way that froze the blood in her veins.

"What haven't you told me?" she asked, trying to sound stronger than she felt.

His head moved slightly toward her, but he was looking at the floor about three feet to her right. What she could see of his face was feral, his voice was a rumble of thunder. "I won't let her get _anywhere _near you."

The pain in her chest blossomed so suddenly and so sharply, Bella gasped for breath. She felt as if a giant fist had reached into her chest and was holding her heart so tightly in its grasp, it could no longer beat. She was having a heart attack, she had to be. _She's coming. Grab him and run. She's coming. Grab him and run and hide him._ Her heart had stopped beating and her blood, her ice cold blood, had stopped flowing and was rushing from her head, being pulled by gravity to her feet.

"Bella!"

Bella didn't know if she was walking or being dragged. She couldn't feel her legs, couldn't feel anything accept the tight vice-like grip on her heart and the cold of Edward's arms around her. She tried to focus everything on the cold, on the spot where his body touched hers. The cold was all that mattered. The cold meant Edward was there, meant he was with her, meant he was safe.

"Bella, sshhhh. It's alright, love. It's alright. Relax."

All of the air in her lungs came whooshing out in one breath, and she screamed, "Relax?!" Bella gasped, rounding on him and taking several rapid breaths. "Relax!? You want me to relax?! That lunatic bitch is coming here and you want me to relax?!"

"Bella, I swear to you _on my life _I will not let her _anywhere_ near you."

"Dammit, Edward! I'm not worried about myself!"

"Shhhh…." Edward pulled her, nearly hysterical, onto his lap and spoke softly to her. "Shhh. There is nothing to worry about, Bella. She won't get anywhere near Forks. She doesn't even intend to. It's us she wants. Us and the wolves. She doesn't even know about the reservation, doesn't know that's where the pack originates. We're her sole focus, and we know her plan now. We know where she is and where she is going. We know when she will be here, and we will be there waiting for her, positioned to come at her from all sides the moment they emerge."

"Emerge?" Bella was curled up on his lap, her legs pulled up to her chest, Edward's shirt fisted in her hands. She looked like a small child after a nightmare, except her nightmare was real and it was on its way.

"They're not coming by land. They're coming up the coast in the water." Edward didn't mention that it was a very clever plan.

"They're _swimming _up the coast?"

"They can hold their breath too, dearest."

"But they'll be seen."

"They'll be several miles off shore and a couple hundred or more feet below the surface. They won't be seen."

This was helping. Edward's calm, assured voice was helping. They were prepared. They wouldn't be caught off guard. They knew what to expect. _But how_…."How do you know all this?"

"I was able to hear their thoughts."

Edward had answered all her questions readily, easily. Confidently. All of them except that one. There was just enough of a hesitation before he answered her to make Bella's back stiffen.

"Exactly how close do you have to be to someone to hear them?"

When he again didn't answer immediately, Bella began to panic. Just how close to that homicidal lunatic had he gotten? "Edward?"

"We didn't get too close, love. We were far enough that they had no idea we were there. Far enough away that they wouldn't catch our scent."

"But what if they cross it?"

"They won't. We were following them. They'd have to double back the way they came, which they have no reason to do. They're solely focused on moving forward, and there is nothing in their intended path to make them change their course."

Bella began to relax slightly and loosened her grip on his shirt. "So, how far were you? Ten or twelve miles? You can hear that far away?"

Again, her question was again met by silence, silence that again sent a shiver down her back. "Five or six miles?"

"Just under three. I can't be more than about three miles away. A little further if it's someone I'm accustomed to."

"Three miles! Edward, there were only four of you! Four of you to, what, at least seventeen or eighteen of them?"

"Bella, please relax. We got close enough for me to hear, I heard what we needed to know, and we got out of there. That's why we were back so early. We got what we needed."

"I thought you were back early because there was no sign of them!"

"Oh, no. There was no question. We went about five hundred miles east of the first report and started west. Their path wasn't hard to find. We couldn't miss it. We found evidence of several more attacks that weren't reported, which wasn't surprising. They might as well have left a trail of bread crumbs. They were very careless. That's actually a good thing. It demonstrates that Victoria has no idea we're aware of them. She'd be taking much more care to cover their tracks if she did."

"What do we do now?"

"_We_ meet with the wolves. There's been… a bit of a… development on the reservation. _You_ stay home and study for finals."

"Finals!? You can't be serious! You think I give a—"

"Bella," Edward's tone was so authoritative it silenced her mid-sentence, "humor me just this once. Please? We have to meet with the wolves to discuss what we learned and what to do about the boy."

"Boy? What boy?"

"Clinton Penn. He's phased already. Friday evening. It was much earlier than anticipated."

"He's the one you mentioned that first day. No one wanted him involved."

"He wasn't expected to join the pack until the fall. Sam's devastated. They all are."

"Why?"

"He's only twelve."

"Twelve!?"

"It's a small tribe. There are only so many boys who carry the gene necessary to phase. We think—or I should say they think, and we agree with them—that whatever gives them the ability to phase can somehow sense an impending threat. When the pack first started increasing in size, they blamed us. Boys were phasing younger and younger, and for the first time, a girl phased as well. But we'd been here before, when your friend Jacob's grandfather was the Chief and Alpha. Alice and Jasper hadn't joined us yet, so we were only five, but in the six years we stayed in Forks, the pack remained the same size, fluctuating between four and five wolves. We posed no threat to them, and as such, had no effect on the size of the pack."

"But Victoria is a threat."

"Exactly, Victoria is a threat. After she and James were in the area last year, the pack started to increase in size."

"Twelve. My God, of course Sam doesn't want him involved."

"Neither do we. Now, I'm going to take you home." Edward could see the worry fill Bella's eyes, and he hastened to reassure her. "I won't be gone too long. I promise. I'll be back early enough to quiz you, so I expect you to have studied. Is that clear?"

"Edward, I don't give a—"

"I know, I know. The flying rat's behind again. I know. But please do this for me anyway. I need to know where you are and what you're doing. If I'm worrying about you, I'll be distracted, and I can't risk being distracted."

"But… you're not going to fight. You said so. You promised, Edward! You promised you would stay with me!"

Bella was beginning to panic, and Edward ran his hand down her hair as he spoke, trying to soothe her. "And I will. But I still need to be able to concentrate fully on the what we're doing."

"Why do you even need to be there? If you're not fighting, why is it so important for you to be there?"

Edward smiled at her like a mischievous child. "I get to play a bad guy. Tanya and I both, actually. She's promised your father she would stay with him, too. We get to attack the others. I'm especially equipped because I can hear what their plan is. We worked out a series of signals, Tanya and I, so I could pass on information to her. It's driving the wolves rabid, which is quite a bit of fun let me tell you, but in all seriousness, it is excellent training. They have to adapt. They have to keep on their toes—well, paws."

The image of those dinner-plate-sized paws Edward so easily joked about and the dagger-like teeth filled her mind's eye, and she flinched.

"So, promise me you'll stay home and study?" Edward pleaded.

Bella nodded her head, her mind still locked on the image of those enormous teeth, her stomach feeling slightly sick.

"Good. I'm facing a big enough risk from your father when I take you home."

"My dad?"

Edward raised her left hand to his lips and kissed her ring. "I need to formally ask his consent."

"Good thing you're bullet proof." Bella forced a smile although her stomach was still churning.

"It's not bullets I'm worried about. He mentioned something about knowing where he could get a flame thrower once." Bella's mouth fell open. "I'm reasonably sure he wasn't serious," he hastened to assure her. "Of course, I wasn't asking for his daughter's hand in marriage at the time."

Edward cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "So get dressed. The sooner I get you home, the sooner I can get back to you." He looked at her and arched his eyebrow. "We can work on those Spanish past tenses some more."

Bella didn't understand the strain in his voice as he mentioned studying for her Spanish final until she saw the look in his eyes, his arched brow. _The_ look. _Her_ look. Schoolwork was the furthest thing from his mind. _Oh_. She remembered the first time he'd touched her, up in his room. They'd been sitting on the floor—studying past tense conjugation for a Spanish test. His arms had been around her, and he'd accidentally brushed the edge of her breast when they'd both moved at the same time. They'd ended up on the floor half naked and humping. _Spanish past tenses. Right. I get it. _"Yeah…. Yeah… I… I love the way you conjugate verbs in the past tense."

.

.

"Chief Swan, sir, may I speak with you?"

The house was quiet, still, except for the sound of Edward's voice. That one sentence hung in the air. In the absolute silence of her father's living room, Bella could still hear Edward's voice; she could still hear that question. It lingered. It was more than just sound. It had a physical presence in the room. She could see it. She could taste it. She could feel the weight of it on her shoulders. But it wasn't a weight pressing against her, forcing her down. It was… like a warm blanket wrapped around her. That was it exactly, Bella thought, a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders after coming in from the cold.

Her father and Tanya sat side by side on the couch, Tanya's left hand resting on her father's forearm, the ring he'd picked out for her yesterday sparkling brilliantly on her third finger. The serene smile on her face could've made the Mona Lisa green with envy. Her father's face was unreadable, expressionless. Edward might have just asked him for the time or about the weather. But there was no question he'd understood the significance of those words.

Alice stood off to the side. Bouncing. Edward feared her father's reaction, his disapproval. But it was Alice's reaction that had Bella worried. She remembered the 'For Bella' section of Alice's enormous walk-in closet, she remembered the twenty dresses Alice had brought for her to try on for her date with Edward, and she briefly considered running off to Vegas and eloping.

The memory hit her so fast there was no preparing herself for it, no time to brace herself. There wasn't even the chance for her to notice the look that passed over Alice's face. The look that said, "Don't you even think about it." Bella felt like she had been whisked away to a different house in a different city at a different time.

Her father said that he'd been expecting this eventually, but she only heard him in the periphery, the way you would overhear someone sitting near you on the bus. The scene in her memory felt more real than her father's living room. She could see the scene, her memory, so clearly she could be an observer watching it play out in front of her, the proverbial fly on the wall.

She could see herself and her mother in the kitchen of their house in Phoenix. Her mother was fawning over bridesmaid dresses in one of her bridal magazines, while in her mind, Bella had planned that if she ever got married, she'd run off to Vegas in a t-shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and mismatched flip flops.

But there was no _if ever_ any more. She _wa_s engaged. She _was_ getting married. She was only seventeen, and she was getting _married_.

Before that thought could fully take hold, it was pushed rudely aside by one far, far worse. She was getting married—_and her mother wouldn't be there_.

Outside, a cat was mewling. Stuck under the neighbor's porch possibly, Bella thought abstractedly. It wasn't until she felt the wonderful coolness of Edward's hands against her face that she realized the whimpering she heard wasn't coming from a cat stuck under a porch. It was coming from her.

Edward gently stroked the side of her face. Bella's eyes took in the faces of her family, Edward, her father, Tanya, Alice…. Her mother's face was missing. Phil's face was missing.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "My mom. I want my mom."

No one spoke. She was truly grateful that no one spoke. They'd accepted there were no words that would help. She'd had these moments before in the month since her mother's death, although none had been as bad as this. Crying suddenly last week, when they had all gone to the diner after a half day of school, because Ben had ordered onion rings instead of fries with his burger just wasn't in the same ballpark as this, no matter how much her mother had loved onion rings.

She was getting married, and her mother wouldn't be there.

Edward silently pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried. When her tears slowed he spoke softly. "I don't have to go. They can get along just fine without me."

"No, Edward. I'm fine. You go. They need you."

"You need me more."

"No. It's too important. I'll be fine. I promise. Go play bad guy." Bella wiped her eyes and tried to get herself under control. "Besides, I'm tired. I think I'll go upstairs and lay down. Maybe study for the Spanish final. I still get all mixed up on when to use which past tense. You promised to help me study, remember?"

Whoever thought _studying for Spanish _could become code for having sex? Or at least coming really, really close to having sex. But Edward's face clearly registered that he'd understood. He swallowed audibly. "We can't neglect your education."

He placed on last kiss on her forehead—mimicking that first kiss months ago—took a step back from her and turned to her father. "Chief Swan?"

Bella thought the look of nervousness on Edward's face was precious. He was about to go and practice killing an entire army of newborn vampires, but what had him worried was talking to her father.

Her father looked uncomfortable, but not surprised or upset, she thought. Definitely not like he was about to pull a flame thrower out from behind the couch. "Yeah, let's… go out back," Charlie said.

As Edward moved and stepped away from her Bella's hand darted out and caught his arm. "You're not leaving yet, are you?"

Edward kissed her forehead again. "I won't leave without telling you, I promise."

As soon as Edward and her father left the room, Tanya and Alice became twin blurs before appearing at her side faster than Bella could blink. Tanya held Bella's hand, her own ring sparkling on her finger, as both she and Alice admired Bella's ring. "It's so beautiful, Bella. I'm so happy for you both." Tanya hugged her carefully.

"I'm happy for you, too," Bella said.

"My turn! My turn!" Tanya released her, and Alice took her place. "Oh! This is so exciting! Double wedding! There is so much to do! So much to plan! You both need gowns, and—"

Edward must've heard Bella's breathing hitch from the backyard, because he called out to his sister loud enough for Bella to hear. "Enough, Alice," he said.

"Oh, but—"

"No _buts_, Alice."

Alice crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted. He must've said something else too low for Bella to hear, because the pouting only lasted for a moment before Alice's face became apologetic. "Of course, you're right. How stupid of me."

Edward and her father rejoined them a moment later, and the radiance of Edward's smile took her breath away. _That smile is because of me. I put that smile there. _Bella went straight to him and stepped into his outstretched arms, laughing as he spun her around. This was their moment. This was a moment Bella knew she had to commit every second of to her memory as perfectly as possible. This was their moment and nothing and no one was going to take it from her—not Victoria and her army, not the venom that would one day change her, that would one day make her like Edward.

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Hey there! So…. They've been playing "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perry a lot lately on the radio station we listen to at work, and every time it came on I thought, "Wow, what a beautiful song," having no idea it was on the BD Part 1 soundtrack. I finally got around to downloading it on Friday night and saw that it was on the soundtrack, and I must've listened to it at least twenty times on repeat.

But, that started me thinking—always a dangerous thing.

As perfectly as I think Christina Perry sings it, it should be a guy singing, because the lyrics fit Edward to Bella so much better than the other way around.

But then, like I said, I started thinking… what if it was the other way around? What if Bella was the vampire, and Edward was the human?

Anyone see where all this thinking is leading?

In the meantime, I hope you liked chapter 46! Chapter 47 is looking pretty good for this coming Saturday, but real life does like to sneak up on us, so no promises! If there is a delay, it shouldn't be more than a day or two.

I missed a couple websites for the preview of chapter 47, but I'm submitting the teaser to the teaser campfire on A Different Forest which was just put up a short while ago, Twi & VD Fic Recs, posts teasers on Tuesday, and Twi Fic Central, posts teasers on Wednesdays.

Drop me a line and say hi!

See you Saturday! (Probably.)


	47. Chapter 47

Sorry for the delay! As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Bella and her father stood on the small back porch, staring into the woods where Edward, Tanya, and Alice had disappeared five minutes ago. Neither was ready to go back into the empty house yet. By mutual, unspoken agreement they stood silently, side-by-side. Bella didn't think she'd be able to handle this if she had to go through it alone. The silent strength of her father next to her seeped into her; knowing she wasn't alone, wouldn't be waiting for Edward to come back alone, that her father was right there waiting for Tanya to come back made all difference. It was only the eventual flash of lightening followed almost immediately by a boom of thunder loud enough to rattle windows that forced them back inside.

Once inside, the quiet was broken by sheets of driving rain that pounded the house like thousands of tiny missiles.

Her father cleared his throat. "Bells, are you sure this is what you want? I mean, really sure? You're doing this because it's what _you_ want, right? There's no other reason?"

Bella looked at her father, his expression reminding of her visit last summer. How many times that month had he looked at her as intently as he was right now? How many times had she thought it had seemed like he was afraid she would disappear, like he'd never see her again?

She suddenly understood that he _had_ been afraid he'd never see her again, but that it hadn't been her who would disappear. He'd already known the truth about Tanya then, known she was a vampire, and he'd already decided what he wanted. He _had_ been afraid he'd never see her again. But he hadn't been afraid _she'd_ disappear; _he'd_ been the one who was going to disappear. Now, he needed her to tell him she was making her decision for herself and not because she was afraid she'd lose him like she'd lost her mother.

"I'm sure, Dad. This is what I want."

He took her hand and looked at her ring.

"It was his mother's," Bella said.

"Yeah. Yeah, he told me. Bells, you're so young…."

"I know, Dad. I know. But I know what I want." Her voice became very quiet but grew stronger again. "And I remember what it feels like to lose him. I can't…. Everything just disappeared. I couldn't… feel anything, but I hurt. I can't explain it. I couldn't feel anything, but at the same time, everything hurt."

Bella kept her eyes down as she spoke. Had she looked up, she would've seen her father shiver as he remembered. They'd never spoken about that time. He couldn't go through that again either.

"If you're sure…."

"I'm sure, Dad."

Charlie wrapped his arms around his little girl, and she rested her head against his shoulder. It could've been seventeen years ago. She could've still been a tiny baby in his arms, waiting patiently as he heated up a bottle for her in the middle of the night. He remembered how even as a baby, she'd been quiet, rarely ever crying. She'd cried until one of them came and got her from her crib, but once they had her, she'd quieted right down. But she was a grown woman now—even at only seventeen, she was already a grown woman and engaged to be married.

"You hungry, kiddo? I'm sure I could manage an omelet without burning the house down."

"Yeah, sure."

"Coming right up."

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Bella sat on her bed cross-legged, holding the picture of herself and her mother taken before they'd left the house for her mother's wedding and trying to memorize every moment of that day as carefully as possible. There were so many memories she refused to sacrifice to become like Edward. She'd have videos and pictures, but like Carlisle's memories of Edward's parents, they weren't enough. She wanted her own memories: the look on her mother's face the moment she stepped out of the dressing room in _the_ dress, the moment Bella hung the necklace Edward had sent her for her mother's "something old" around her neck, the beauty salon owner's constant admonishments against blotchy brides. She wanted to remember the twelve days of Christmas glasses because _she_ remembered it, not because Edward told her about them. She wanted to remember tripping and falling into their desk at the estate sale. She wanted to remember going crazy looking for the hidden compartment. She wanted to remember finding Edward's letter to Mic. She wanted to remember writing back to him. She wanted to remember falling backwards over the laundry basket and crashing into her dresser when she saw Edward's response to her first letter to him. She wanted to remember the feeling of amazement that a boy living nearly one hundred years ago had gotten her letter and had written back. She wanted to remember the first time he'd told her he loved her—both first times.

There were so many memories she wanted to keep.

There were also those she would happily forget, but Bella was afraid that, like Alice had said, she would dwell the most on things she didn't want to think about at all.

Bella lay down on her bed and returned her attention to her mother's image. "Mom? Wherever you are, can you hear me? Mom, Edward asked me to marry him. And I said yes. I'm so sorry I didn't call you back. I miss you so much. I'm getting married. Can you believe it? Me? Married? And at seventeen."

Bella's throat constricted painfully, and she wiped her eyes on her sleeve before she lay down and curled up in the quilt her Gramma Swan had made.

"Mom, he's wonderful. I love him so much. He's…. I guess wherever you are, you already know what he is. I'm going to become like him. I guess you probably already know that too, but I wanted to tell you anyway. He doesn't want me to. He wants me to stay how I am. But I know it's going to happen. We can't go on like this. A husband and wife need to be equals. I can't say I'm not scared, though. It hurts, and you know what a crybaby I am. On the plus side though, I won't be clumsy anymore. I won't always be tripping and falling over stuff.

"He saved my life, Mom. Twice. But when he needed me, I let him down. I'm so sorry I had to keep him secret from you. I wish I could've told you all about him. He's the reason I went kinda nuts studying about the Spanish flu last year. He's also the reason for… what happened after that. But I guess you know that now, too. There was nothing I could do. I tried to send him medicine, but I couldn't. I tried to learn everything I could about the epidemic, but it didn't help. He got sick, and he wasn't going to get better. I thought he died, but Carlisle saved him the only way he could.

"Now he's in danger again, and again there is nothing I can do. I did something terrible, Mom. I hurt him on purpose. I guilt-tripped him into doing what I wanted. I manipulated him. I did it to protect him, but it was still wrong. It's a really long story, but I put his family at risk because I couldn't let him fight with them. There has to be something I can do to help, but there isn't. I'm completely useless. Mom, I love him so much. I wish you could've met him."

Bella closed her eyes and yawned.

"Wherever you are, are his parents there, too? I miss you so much, Mom."

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Having drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythm of the rain against her window in spite of how anxious she was, Bella woke up restless. Edward wasn't back yet, and it would likely be hours before he was. The picture of her mother and her was on the bed beside her, and she picked it back up. "I won't let myself forget you, Mom. I promise."

She had to keep that promise. She had to keep her memories, but how? Sitting up she rubbed her temples. She had to find a way to keep her memories of her mother and Edward. The books and notebooks she was supposed to be studying for finals were sitting on their desk and caught her attention. Notes. She could make notes for herself. Give herself details, things she wanted to keep. She could use them to help her remember. Edward would help her. He was against her becoming like him, but she knew he would help her. He wouldn't want her to lose her mother the way he'd lost his parents, his entire life.

Bella wrote furiously—everything from just staying home and watching movies with her mother and having leftover Chinese for dinner, to her last Christmas with her mother, to watching silent movies with Edward, to the look on Jessica Stanley's face when he kissed her at the classroom door. She didn't stop writing until she had covered several pages with detailed memories and her hand was too cramped to continue, but there were still so many moments she couldn't risk losing.

Shaking her hand out, she walked to her window. The downpour had stopped. The forecast had called for sporadic, hit-or-miss thunderstorms today intermixed with occasional glimpses of the sun, and now the sky was beginning to brighten. Hopefully, Edward would be back before the sky opened up again. It didn't matter that she knew the rain made no difference to him; she still didn't like him being out in it.

She pressed her forehead and against the window pane and sighed as she stared into the trees. Closing her eyes, she prayed. She felt guilty that the only times she ever prayed she was asking for something. For the same thing, actually. She'd never even said a prayer of thanks that Carlisle had been there to save Edward or that they'd found each other again, so she added a thank you before she prayed that Edward would be safe, that her family would be safe, that… nothing bad would happen. Her guilt increased because even though she'd included her entire family—and she did consider all of Edward's family to be her family; it would, after all, only be a matter of time until they were just as much her family as his—mainly, she was praying that Edward be kept safe. Tanya too, of course. And Alice. And… everyone. But mainly Edward.

Bella felt tense. She'd woken up from her nap feeling restless, and the feeling still hadn't passed. She had to do something. _Anything_. She had to get out of the house for a little while. She returned her attention to the trees and considered going down the trail for a while, but she knew that after the downpour they'd had, the leaves would be still be dripping so much it would be like it was still raining. She could clean around the house, but it was already spotless. She could cook something, but the thought of eating right now made her feel slightly nauseous.

As she thought, Bella realized she still didn't know when _it_ was actually going to happen. She hadn't asked Edward when Victoria and her group of friends were coming. It could be tomorrow for all she knew.

The feeling of nausea grew, and she beat it back. If it was that imminent, he'd have told her. Wouldn't he?

_Wouldn't he? _

He wouldn't just not tell her it was happening until it was all over. Would he?

As guilty as it made her feel, some small part of her wished he would do just that. Part of her wanted to fall asleep next to him tonight and have him wake her up in the morning and tell her it was all over. But she'd promised him he'd never have to face anything alone again, and she'd meant it. She'd manipulated him into sitting it out and staying with her, the very least she owed him was to sit up and wait it out with him.

The churning in her stomach refused to settle down, and the feeling of the cool glass against her skin felt nice. The cool smoothness reminded her of the feeling of Edward's hands on her face.

Her father was downstairs. She could hear the TV on, probably one game or another, but couldn't make out what was being said. It was just a dull murmur, barely recognizable as voices. She doubted her father had much more of an idea of what was being said than she did.

Bella thought about going down and sitting with him, but she didn't want to sit still and wait. _I _have _to do something. Go for a walk. Take out the garbage. Paint the house. Dig up the yard and plant a garden_. _Something_. Anything_. _

While both painting the house or digging up the yard to plant a garden would keep her busy longer and would hopefully leave her so exhausted she'd fall into a dreamless sleep, Bella admitted they were both probably going a little overboard and decided to go for a walk.

She looked back up to the sky. It was still relatively bright compared to how dark it had been earlier; she thought she could get back before rain started to come down in buckets again. Going to her dresser she pulled out her green hoodie and pulled it on over Edward's t-shirt. As she did, the ring on her left hand glittered even in the dim light, and she stopped dead.

Her ring.

What if she ran into someone while she was walking? She could keep her hand in her pocket, but what if she slipped up and took her hand out and someone noticed it? And tomorrow was Monday—_school_. School. There was no way she could keep her hand hidden during school. She could hardly walk around with her hand in her pocket all week long.

Finals were this week already. How did it get to be June already? How was she supposed to even think about taking a test with Victoria out there?

_Urrrggg! I have got to get out of this house!_

At least the problem of the ring was easily solved. She was just going to have to take it off, there was no way around it. She closed her fingers around the ring to pull it off, but she hesitated. Edward had put that ring on her finger. He had asked her to be his wife and put that ring on her finger.

She _didn't want_ to take it off.

Her ring signified to the world that Edward Anthony Masen Cullen had chosen _her_. It had been his mother's engagement ring, and now it was _hers_. He had given it to _her_. Out of all the women he'd met over the past ninety-plus years, he'd only ever wanted _her_. The words he'd spoken to her in the woods came back to her in a rush, and the incredible magnitude, the significance of what had happened between them this morning hit her, and she gasped before a smile spread across her face. Everything he'd said…. The emotion he'd said it with…. She only just really understood it now. This ring meant that she was _his._ He was _hers_.

She'd heard people say that before, and it had always gotten under her skin. It was like they were claiming ownership of the other person, like he or she wasn't their own person anymore. Like they were just another possession to be taken out and played with or shown off and then put away until they were wanted again, or a trophy to sit up on a shelf and show the world, "This is mine. I won it. It's mine now, and you can't have it."

But she'd been so wrong. Now… now she _got _it. It was so much more, so intrinsic. Edward was part of her, and she was part of him. They were still themselves, but they were more than that, more than just themselves. They were one. Inseparable. She couldn't take her ring off. She didn't want to. She'd just have to find a way to keep her finger hidden.

Bella's clumsiness, for once, was going to come in handy. Her father had a medicine cabinet stocked with every size and shape of Band-Aid known to mankind. Going into the bathroom, she picked out one an inch wide and used it to cover her ring. It didn't work. The stones stood up too high. She peeled the Band-Aid off and tried again, turning her ring around so that the stones faced her palm and making sure the stones were completely covered by the padded part of the Band-Aid. She didn't want to get the adhesive on them.

Hurrying down the stairs, she grabbed her rain jacket, just in case, and told her father she was going for a walk. He looked distressed. Her walk was going to have to be shorter than she'd planned. She understood that look—she couldn't leave him for long. He had to know where she was. Until this was all over, he had to know where she was.

"I'm just going to the store. I want pierogies for dinner, and we're out."

"Don't be gone long, Bells."

She went over to him and hugged him and kissed his cheek. _When was the last time I kissed him? When was the last time I kissed Mom? _She hugged her father a little longer than she'd intended to. He squeezed her hand a little too tightly. It was her left hand, and when her father squeezed it, her fingers pressed together painfully against her ring. She didn't mention it.

"I'll be back soon, I promise. Thriftway and back. No stops," she promised, hurrying out the door before she could change her mind. She knew it was irrational, but she was afraid if she sat down she might just go crazy. She walked the streets of her small town with her head down and her hands in her pocket. This was supposed to help. But it wasn't. Every step Bella took, the further away she got from the house, the more anxious and uneasy she felt.

Inside the pocket of her hoodie, she wrapped her right hand around her left, feeling to make sure her ring was still there. Yup, it was definite, she told herself. She was losing her mind. Exactly where did she think it could've gone?

"Bella! Hi!"

Just about to turn around and go home, Bella startled when Jessica called her name. Jessica and Angela were jogging toward her, and in her pocket, Bella's right hand automatically tightened protectively over her left. The last thing she wanted was company—especially company that included Jessica.

"Watcha' doin'?" Jessica asked playfully.

The other girl's voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Bella's strained nerves. "Nothing. Just going for a walk before it rains again. I had to get out for a little while," she forced herself to say—she hoped—casually.

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean." Jessica cracked her gum as she spoke. Did she always do that? Had Bella just never noticed before? Were her nerves so shot that little things she never noticed before were _this close _to pushing her over the edge? Jessica continued, "I thought if I studied for one more minute my head would explode."

For a brief moment, the mental image of Jessica's head actually exploding off her shoulders lifted Bella's spirits before she chastised herself. It wasn't Jessica's fault there was a crazy homicidal vampire bitch after her family.

Bella forced herself to smile, but she was afraid she looked like Wednesday Addams in that scene from _Addams Family Values _when she wass at camp. She half expected Jessica to run away crying, "She's scaring me!"

Jessica linked her arms through Bella's and Angela's and led them away. She did that at the movies that day, too. Didn't she have any idea _how irritating_ that was?

"We'll go with you. Won't we, Ang?"

Angela must've seen something of Wednesday Addams in Bella's smile even if Jessica hadn't, or maybe she'd seen a spark in her eyes when Jessica had mentioned her head exploding, because she'd picked up that the last thing Bella wanted was for them to join her. "Jess, I think maybe Bella wanted to go for a walk by herself."

"Nonsense. Bella would love for us to join her. Wouldn't you, Bella?" Jessica answered her own question. "Of course she would. Now, where should we go?"

Bella reluctantly gave in. She considered for a moment what special strengths or abilities a vampire Jessica might possess. _She'd probably have the ability to locate a person's last nerve so she could get on it and jump up and down. _"I was just going to Thriftway," she said.

Jessica's eyes lit up. That had clearly been the right thing to say—the right thing meaning the very wrong thing. "Oh, perfect! My mom put pictures of me 'n Mike from our house before prom on a flash drive for his mother. I have it in my purse. She'd wanted to get them done for them sooner, but she's just _so_ busy. And I know he's working at the store today. He said that's why he couldn't come over and study this afternoon. Thriftway's right next door. We can just drop in, and I can give to him. My mom took dozens of pictures of us, you know. On the front porch, in front of the flower bed, in front of the tree in our front yard, getting into the car. I really didn't think she'd _ever_ _stop_."

Bella didn't think Jessica would _ever_ _stop_, and she strongly suspected that both Stanley women had planned exactly where the pictures were to be taken. _Poor Mike. I hope he didn't angle his head the wrong way or blink or something. I could just picture Jessica slipping poison into his dinner salad if she thought he'd messed up those pictures._

As irritating as Jessica was, she had at least served to distract Bella's mind for a moment, but the thought of Jessica slipping poison into Mike's food reminded her of the case Edward's father had been working on when he'd gotten sick, which of course reminded her of Edward. Not that he was ever far from her mind, but Jessica had at least given her a moment to catch her breath.

Angela caught her eye and mouthed, "You OK?"

Bella nodded her head and let Jessica continue rambling about whatever it was she was rambling about now. That was one good thing about Jessica; you could just let her talk as you went about doing whatever it was you were doing. She'd never have the first clue you weren't listening.

Sometimes, Bella wondered if someone would sneak up behind Jessica, cover her eyes, and ask who she was talking to, if the she would even know.

"Hi, Mr. Healey," Angela called out, waving as the middle-aged man pulling weeds from his front lawn looked up.

The movement registered with Jessica where the words themselves had not. "Hi, Mr. Healey."

"Hello, girls," the man replied, waving pleasantly.

Bella recognized him as one of the teachers at school, but she didn't have him for class. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and waved anyway.

The moment she realized what she'd done, she clenched her hand into a fist and shoved it back into her pocket. She'd waved with her left hand because _friggin' Jessica _still had her right arm held captive.

The shopping center wasn't far, and soon they were turning onto South Forks Ave. Jessica steered them toward the sporting goods store. "Let's just run in and see Mike first."

Bella felt like a kid at day care being led around on a field trip. "I really don't have a lot of time. I promised my dad I wouldn't be gone long."

"Oh, really, Bella. It's Sunday afternoon. The game is on. If your dad is anything like mine, he hasn't even noticed you're gone."

Bella had never met Mr. Stanley, but she felt a burning desire to say her father was nothing like him.

The three girls entered the store. It was empty, and just like the first time she'd been there last summer, Mike was in the back of the store sweeping up. He looked distinctly distracted, like his mind couldn't have been farther away.

"Hi, Mike!" Jessica hollered to him.

Jumping like he'd accidentally touched a bare live wire, Mike looked nervous when he saw Jessica, but when he saw Bella, his face turned chalky white, and his eyes darted around like a cornered animal's.

Bella's eyebrows knitted together until she put two and two together. Jake had called her and asked about Mike for Leah. _Leah. _Bella didn't know whether she was more worried or furious. Leah was bound by the treaty. She wasn't allowed to say anything to anyone, but judging by the sheer terror on Mike's face, she'd said plenty.

But right now, what mattered most was that Mike looked about ready to pass out, and Bella took pity on him, excusing herself. She'd have to let Edward deal with Leah. "Guys, I'm going to run over to Thriftway."

Bella tried to make her escape, but Mike called out to her, "Bella! Wait!" He hurried passed Jessica, ignoring her completely, and grabbed Bella by the arm. He looked anxiously back over his shoulder at Jessica and Angela. Bella's eyes followed his, and she saw as Jessica's eyes narrow and her lips press together so tightly they almost disappeared. _Oh, this is just fantastic. I get to add a jealous Jessica into the mix. _

Mike dragged her out the door and several feet down the sidewalk.

"Um, Mike?" Bella motioned to his grip on her arm. "Ow."

"Oh! Sorry. God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bella."

"It's OK."

Mike looked like there were about a hundred things he wanted to say and they were all fighting to get to the front of the line. He also still looked ready to pass out.

Bella spoke slowly. "Mike, listen to me. Breathe. OK? Just breathe."

He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "Breathe. Right."

"There. That's better. In and out." Bella gave him a few moments to pull himself together. She'd at least had the benefit of knowing and loving Edward, of trusting him before she'd had to deal with this. But Mike might as well have been pushed into the deep end head first with his hands tied behind his back. "Better?"

"No."

"Mike, you need to relax."

"Relax? _Relax?_" Mike shook his head.

"I'm sorry Leah dragged you into this. I don't know what she was thinking. She had no right."

His eyes hardened, and he became defensive. "Don't blame Leah. It's not her fault. She didn't do anything wrong."

Bella crossed her arms, becoming defensive herself. "Yeah, actually she did. She's bound by a treaty older than she is to keep her mouth shut. Did she tell you that part? Or did she conveniently forget? God, I can't believe her! Now, of all times. What was she thinking? She could've ruined everything."

"Lay off Leah. None of this is her fault. She didn't ask for any of this, you know. She doesn't deserve any of this."

"You think Edward asked for this? Do you think Alice asked for this? Do you think _any_ of them asked for this? You've known them for two years, Mike. In all that time can you name me one instance, just one, when any of them did anything wrong? One time when any one of them hurt someone? Ask Leah those same questions why don't you."

Just as she had before, Bella knew she'd regret those words later, but right now she couldn't bring herself to. She also knew she needed to keep control of herself. She'd had her freak out moment, and that was with her already being in love with Edward. Mike had only just met Leah. He was entitled to his freak out moment, too. "Look, Mike. I meant it when I said I was sorry you got dragged into this."

Mike's defensiveness melted away, and he sank tiredly down on a nearby bench. "How do you _do_ it? I mean… You know what he _is_. I mean, my God… the guy's not even alive."

Bella bristled. "Edward is _very much_ _alive_, thank you. He's just different. His physiology and diet are different from what they used to be, but I assure you he is alive. This isn't a movie, Mike. None of the stereotypes are real. Their bodies just work differently from ours. Plus, I had an advantage over you when I found out; I was already in love with him."

"They're not _human_, Bella. How well do you even know him? Leah did tell me about that treaty. It was made over seventy years ago, _and he was there for_ _it_. The guy could be a hundred for all you know."

Bella smiled. "He's either one hundred and nine—well one hundred and eight technically, his birthday isn't until the 20th—or ninety-one, depending on how you look at it. I know he's not human anymore, Mike, believe me, I know. If he was still human, I would have lost him. He would be in a grave in Chicago next to his parents. I prefer him here with me. How he is able to still be here with me just doesn't matter. I don't care that his appetite has changed. I only care that he's still here with me. I know what happened to him and his parents, and I know why it happened and why he's here."

Bella quickly glanced back through the windows of the store; Jessica was fuming, and poor Angela was stuck trying to pacify her.

"Look, Mike, I know you've got all kinds of questions, and I'll answer any I can, but right now Jessica is glaring daggers at us. You've got to get back in there and deal with her."

"I really don't care what she thinks."

"That doesn't matter. Do you care about Leah?"

Mike's eyes looked dreamy, and he blushed and stammered. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. I mean, I do. I do care about her. A lot. I like her. I like her a lot."

"I still think she was wrong to drag you into this, but she did, and now you've got to deal with it."

"What am I even supposed to say to her?" Mike asked, looking back toward his family's store.

"Honestly, Mike…. If you want to be with Leah, you have to break up with Jessica first. You owe her that much. It's not right to—"

"But I'm not even _with_ Jessica!" Mike exclaimed. "I just didn't want to be the only guy without a date for prom! But she's gotten it in her head that we're a couple now, and she won't stop calling and texting me. God, you should've seen her after prom. I thought it was supposed to be the guy who was part octopus."

"Just…. Just tell her the truth." Before Bella could finish Mike's mouth fell open and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Any empathy Bella'd felt for Mike was quickly evaporating. She had enough to deal with on her own and didn't need a nearly hysterical teenage boy added to her plate, regardless of how justified that hysteria was. Really, what had Leah been thinking dumping all of this on him? She'd only just met him for God's sake. "I meant, as much of the truth as possible. Just tell Jess you like her as a friend, and you're sorry if she thought you felt something you didn't, but there's a girl you just met who you want to be with. Tell her I know the girl, and that's what we've been talking about."

Mike lips moved silently, like he was repeating to himself everything she'd just said, trying to memorize it. He looked panicked, but Bella was having trouble feeling badly for him. A pissed off Jessica would be a lot like a pissed off pit bull, she thought, but still a far cry from the pissed off vampire her family was facing. Did Mike even know about Victoria? Maybe Leah hadn't told him everything. Bella suspected she hadn't, and if not, Bella did not want to be the one to slip up and say too much. "I really gotta go. I promised my dad I wouldn't be gone long," she said, wanting to get away.

Mike nodded, but his face didn't register that he'd heard her. He ran his hand through his hair as he walked back into his parents' store, muttering, "And I always thought Forks was boring."

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Angela found Bella in the frozen foods section of the grocery store a few minutes later, and Bella could see her friend was very glad to be away from the scene that had to have been playing out at that minute between Mike and Jessica. Both girls exchanged a knowing glance, and neither brought it up.

"Need to get much?" Angela asked.

Bella pulled a box of Mrs. T's Pierogies out of a freezer. "Nope. Just these."

"What happened to your finger?"

Bella's eyes snapped to her left hand as she closed the freezer door. She wanted to hide her hand in her pocket, but it was too late. Angela had already seen the Band-Aid covering her ring, and hiding her hand could make her suspicious.

Dear God, why had she ever left the house? This was supposed to have been just a quick trip to Thriftway to just get out of the house for a little while. She should've stayed home.

"Oh…. Nothing, just…. I cut myself. By accident. So, are you ready for finals?"

"Oh, God. I will be so happy when this is all over. Won't you?"

"You have no idea."

The two girls chatted as they walked through the store and waited in line at the express checkout. Angela was looking at the magazines on display and talking about some actor or other's new baby when something caught Bella's attention. Her eyes locked on the small piece of transparent, bright blue plastic, and her mind raced. Her hand darted out involuntarily, but she pulled it back, nervously looking around herself and cradling her hand against her stomach protectively as if someone had smacked it for doing something she shouldn't have. She felt like she was being watched. She knew the idea was ludicrous, but she felt like the thoughts in her head were being broadcast loud and clear to everyone around her and any second someone was sure to call Edward and tell him what she was thinking.

But more important than anything she felt was what she didn't feel. She didn't feel as helpless as she had a moment ago. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, and she felt almost drunk with the relief that if everything went wrong, she would have a surprise up her sleeve—or more literally, in her pocket—for Victoria.

The idea that had formed in her head the instant her eyes landed on the small blue rectangle wasn't a Plan B. It was a Plan Z. It was the absolute, ultimate worst case scenario, _but it was something_ _she could do_. If, in spite of Edward's constant reassurances that there was nothing for her to worry about, the absolute worst came to worst _it was something she could do_.

Bella looked around herself again, half expecting all eyes to be trained directly on her and looking at her in reproach, but no one was paying any attention to her. Taking a deep breath, she reached out again and grabbed the shiny blue plastic, trying to look as casual as possible while her hand was shaking like a leaf.

Her eyes darted back to Angela, but she had picked up the magazine and was reading an article while she waited for Bella to reach the register.

There was only one person in front of her now, and she was writing out a check while the boy behind the register rung her up. The lady behind her was playing peek-a-boo with her baby.

There was no one to notice her slip the innocuous looking secret weapon off its peg between its dental floss and eyeglass repair kit neighbors and place it on the belt in front of the box of frozen pierogies. She stepped up to the register, and as the boy slid her covert purchase over the scanner, she reached out for it and slipped it into her pocket rather than letting him bag it.

She smiled as she paid, feeling empowered, like she'd just pulled off the coup of the century.

As she took her bag she let out a breath, exhaling with such relief it felt like she'd been holding that breath in for weeks and weeks.

"What's Edward doing?"

Just like that, the relief turned to lead and sank to her legs, making it difficult to walk. Bella looked around half-panicked, expecting Edward to be there. If he knew what she'd just done, what she had in her head, he would be livid. But he wasn't there. She looked around again, still afraid he'd been there the whole time and knew what she had hidden in her pocket, but he wasn't there. As the lead slowly drained from her legs, it felt like it took her bones with it. "Edward?" she asked Angela.

Angela smiled at the confused look Bella suspected was covered her face, laughing, "You know, tall guy, smart, insanely good looking, crazy in love with you?"

"He's…. He's with his family. They're… hiking. They're very outdoorsy."

"You didn't want to go?"

"I'm very fall downsy. He's coming over this evening, though."

"Oh?"

"He promised to help me study. For Spanish."

"Edward's very good at Spanish."

"Yeah, he's very good." Bella couldn't stop her lips from smiling, and she looked away trying to hide her blush.

Angela's eyebrows shot up with understanding. "Ah ha. Why do I get the feeling 'studying for Spanish' means something other than studying for Spanish?"

"I can't imagine."

.

.

As soon as Bella got home, she put some water on to boil, added a little salt, and got out the butter and a couple onions to sauté. She didn't really feel like eating, but she'd gone out on the premise of wanting pierogies, so now she was stuck making them.

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper, but he wasn't reading it.

The onions were strong and made her eyes burn as she chopped them up. Her eyes started to burn and tear up, and as soon as she finished she went to the sink to wash her hands and throw some cold water on her face. Her father looked at her in concern, but she assured him it was just the onions, and he went back to not reading the paper.

Drying her hands, Bella looked up and out the back window just as Edward and Tanya were exiting the woods. "Oh!" She dropped the dish towel and ran out the back door, followed immediately by her father, and ran straight to Edward, throwing her arms around him.

The smile fell from his face as he looked at her. "Love, what is it? What's wrong?"

Pressing her face into his chest, Bella said, "Nothing's wrong. I'm just glad you're back. I was afraid you wouldn't be back for hours."

"You have been crying."

"No, I haven't."

Edward took her chin in his hand and turned her face up toward his. "Bella, your eyes are red and your eyelashes are wet."

"Really, I'm fine. I was cutting up onions."

"You're crying because you were cutting up onions?"

"I'm not crying. The onions were just burning my eyes a little."

"Why would cutting up onions burn your eyes?"

"I don't really know. Sometimes it just does."

"Then why would you do it?"

"I love onions."

"You love something that makes you cry? Bella, you are completely illogical." Bemused, Edward wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "How about you let me cut up the onions for you from now on. Are there any other foods that hurt you that I should know about? Do carrots hurt your ears, for example?"

"No, Mr. Smartypants, carrots do not hurt my ears."

Edward slipped his hand into Bella's as they walked toward the house. Before he took two steps he stopped and raised her hand, looking at the Band-Aid that was still on her finger. "Did you cut yourself?" Even as he spoke the words, he realized the stupidity of them. If Bella had cut herself, he'd have smelled her blood a mile away.

She peeled the forgotten Band-Aid off, uncovering her ring.

"You covered your ring?" Edward's voice sounded heartbroken.

"Only because I had to. I ran out to the store quickly. I only just got back a few minutes ago. I couldn't risk anyone seeing it. An engagement ring in the 11th grade in the year 2010 would be kind of hard to explain."

Edward closed his eyes. "Of course. How foolish of me. I wasn't thinking."

He held the back door open for her as Bella said, "We've got a problem, though. Leah told Mike everything. Well I don't know if she told him _everything_, but she told him enough. He knows."

"We know. Sam told us. He was very worried about our reaction, but he was honest with us."

"But the treaty… she broke it."

"It's alright. It's…. It's a bit of a special circumstance. Bella, Mike is Leah's mate." Edward sighed as he explained, "It's complicated. The wolves…. The wolves mate for life, just as we do. But for them it happens differently; it is very literally love at first sight. The very instant they see the person, they know, and their entire world changes. Their entire universe shifts so that that one person is at the very center. In that one instant, that person becomes the center of their life.

"As you know, the wolves have been patrolling the woods around Forks. Leah saw Mike briefly, but those few moments were enough. Unfortunately, it was the night of the prom, and Jessica was hanging all over him."

"Oh, poor Leah!"

Edward agreed. "She'd just found her mate only to see, at least as she thought, him with his very amorous girlfriend."

"That's why she was like that that day, why she just collapsed like that. Oh, poor Leah. Still, at least it worked out."

Edward shook his head, looking very regretful. "It's not that easy. Leah is already the first girl to transform in the history of the tribe, and now, she is also the first to take a white mate. The wolves' mates have always been someone from within the tribe."

"What difference does that make? This is the 21st century, not the wild west," Bella protested. "It matters to some. Not to everyone. Not to any of the pack—they are wholly united behind her. But there are some on the reservation who mind very much."

"They'll just have to get over it. It's none of their business," she said indignantly.

"It's not that easy, Bella. This is something that is exclusive to the tribe. I'm explaining it poorly. It's not a race thing. It wouldn't matter if Mike was Native American; what matters is that he's not Quileute. Nowhere else in the world is there a group of people who hold this power. They're unique. It's a matter of intense tribal pride, which is understandable. It's considered a blessing on them from their ancestors in the spirit world and held as nothing short of sacred. As the Alpha, Sam's word is law, and he supports Leah. No one will cross him. But that doesn't change their feelings. There are some who resent her bringing an outsider into something that for centuries has been solely theirs."

"So, they're fine with her risking her life to protect them but don't think she has the right to be happy. Nice."

"I'm not trying to justify them, Bella. Personally, I disagree with them as much as you do. But—"

"I know, I know. It isn't our business."

"No. It's not."

"I saw Mike today. He was borderline freaking out, but when I said Leah was wrong to tell him about you, he got very defensive of her. He seems to really like her."

"Yes, from what I can tell he seems quite smitten."

Bella cracked up. "Smitten? You sound like an old man."

"I _am _an old man."

Bella wrapped her arms around his waist and slid her hands into his back pockets. "Yes, but you're _my_ old man." She stretched up and kissed him, "I'm so glad you're back already. I missed you. Did I mention that? I was afraid you'd be gone almost all day."

"We're as well prepared as we're going to get. It's important for the wolves to get as much rest as possible now."

Bella's heart began to pound, and she had to fight the urge to reach into her pocket and make sure her secret weapon was still there. "It's very soon, then?" she asked. Edward looked at her like he would give anything to not have to answer that question. "Edward, please."

He answered reluctantly, "Thursday afternoon. We intend to be in position by early Thursday morning just to be safe."

Bella felt like she might be sick. "So… so soon?"

Edward nodded his head but didn't make eye contact. He looked guilty, like there was something he wasn't telling her. Bella's heart plummeted as she replayed his words, and she began to panic. "Wait. 'We.' You said, 'we.' Why did you way 'we?' Edward, you promised. You promised you'd stay with me. You promised."

"Shhhh. It's OK. Shhhh. Bella, relax. I am staying with you. Please don't worry. I just meant 'we' as in my family and the wolves, our side."

"_Our_ family," she corrected.

He kissed her forehead and smiled to himself. "Our family."

"Edward?"

His poor Bella. This was just too much for her, for any human to be expected to deal with. Edward could hear the deep strain she was under in her voice, and he was glad it would be over soon. In a way, he envied Leah. She'd had the chance to spare her mate the constant worry his Bella was going through, and as much as he knew Bella would have, in her own eloquent words, "ripped him a new one" after it was all over, if he'd had the same chance, he'd have made the same choice. He'd gladly endure her temper to spare her from having to endure her fear.

"Hmmm?"

"Am I a terrible person?"

Her question was so far removed from what he'd been expecting, and the absurdity of it was so great, he laughed out loud. "What? You, Bella my love, are everything that is good. You are loving and brave and kind. You are intelligent and compassionate and entirely wonderful. You are so far from being a terrible person, why would you ever even ask such a ridiculous question?"

"I did a terrible thing."

"Bella, nothing you could ever do could be _that_ terrible."

"This was."

"Tell me what you did that you think was so very bad. I am sure you're exaggerating it out of all proportion."

"I'm not."

"Tell me."

"I can't. You'll hate me."

That shocked him. "_Hate you_?Bella, don't you understand how much I love you? I could _never_ hate you. Not ever. _Hate you_?Dear Lord, Bella. _Nothing_ could ever be that bad."

"This is. You don't know what I did. Edward, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

Edward sat down and pulled her onto his lap. He ran his hand up and down her back trying to comfort her. It was the same position they'd sat in alongside the road when she'd asked him to stay with her, not to fight with his family, and it was as if a light bulb suddenly went off over his head. It surprised him that he didn't actually hear an audible _click_. "Bella? This supposedly terrible thing you did wouldn't happen to have anything to do with your asking me not to fight with my—with our family—would it?"

Her body shook in his arms.

"Oh, my silly girl. Please don't distress yourself."

"Don't _distress myself_! Edward, you don't understand. I tricked you. I said horrible, horrible things that weren't your fault. I manipulated you. I said things I knew would hurt you to get you to do what I wanted you to. You…. You're so brave. And I'm a terrible, horrible person!"

"Good God, Bella, I'm over ninety years old, and I've read the minds of countless people, both humans and vampires. Did you seriously believe I didn't know what you were doing?"

"You… You _knew_?"

"Of course I did. Just because I can't read your mind doesn't mean I don't understand how it works."

"Why didn't you…. Why didn't you stop me!? Why didn't you tell me to stop!? Why did you let me keep saying those horrible things?"

"What did you say that wasn't true? I was—no _I am—_ very ashamed of myself. You were completely terrified, and I'm so very sorry I didn't take your fear more seriously. I knew your fear was needless, but it was real and I had no right to dismiss it. Every word I said to you was true. It really will be easy, and the whole thing really will be over in minutes. Our family doesn't need me there, but you do. I should've recognized how very afraid you were, Bella, and I'm so very sorry I didn't. I never should have tried to minimize your fears. I'm so sorry I pushed you to say things that were so upsetting to you. Please forgive me."

"I should be asking you to forgive me, Edward. The things I said…. I'll never forgive myself. I blamed you for something that wasn't your fault."

"I put you in a position where you felt forced to do whatever you could to get me to stay with you. I'm so sorry, Bella. I am not a very good boyfriend. I continually fall short. I should never have put you in a position to even have to ask me to stay with you when you were afraid. I should have recognized how afraid you were and known my place was with you without your ever needing to ask, but for me to make you feel you _couldn't_ even ask was unpardonable. I allowed myself to get caught up in my need to protect you from Victoria, which my… _our_ family is perfectly capable of doing without me, and I neglected to see that from which you truly need me to protect you, and I am deeply sorry."

Bella felt as if the weight of the world was gone from her shoulders, and she kissed him.

"Please, Bella, if I am ever such an undeserving, insensitive ass to you again, please have Emmett hit me with a baseball bat. He'd love to have the excuse."

She cracked a smile. "Wouldn't the bat just splinter into toothpicks?"

"Ours aren't exactly MLB issue. Feel better now?"

"Oh, God. So much better."

"Good. I'm glad. No more secrets?"

"Definitely, no more secrets."

Edward and Bella sat together quietly watching the rain that had started up again as it beat against the window.

"Bella?"

"Hmmm?"

"Would you like to go away with me?"

Bella sat up and looked quickly into the living room where her father and Tanya had retired. Her eyes, when they fixed on Edward's, were glowing with excitement, and she whispered, "Go away with you?"

"There's no need to be so secretive, love. We are _engaged_ now, you know."

"I've heard."

"So, would you be interested?"

"I'd be _very_ interested. What did you have in mind, Mr. Cullen?"

"It's been a very long time since I've been to Las Vegas. I thought you might like it there."

"Vegas? You…. You want to go to Vegas?"

"It's a very… convenient city for someone like us."

"Someone like us… you mean… someone who doesn't sleep?"

"That's certainly one way it's convenient. But it's not what I was thinking of."

"What were you thinking of?"

"They have quite a few wedding chapels in Las Vegas and very favorable marriage laws."

"You…. You want to run off to Vegas and get married? I thought… I thought you'd… want a big…."

"The one and only thing I truly care about is that we are husband and wife. To be married to you is all I want. The where and the how don't matter."

Bella gasped. "That's…. That's what my mother said. The day we met Michael, the day he gave me our desk. She was going to cancel the order on her wedding gown and use the money to buy me the desk. She said the dress didn't matter. She said could get a cheaper dress. She said all that mattered was that at the end of the day she and Phil were married."

"She was right."

"We're…." Bella looked back toward the living room and bit her lip. She looked nervous, but she was smiling. It was a good nervous. "We're really going to do this?"

"Say the word, and we'll gas up the car and leave right now, if you'd like."

"Right now! Edward, I can't…. I thought you meant sometime this summer! We can't run away and get married _right now_! My dad has work! Your dad has work! I have… We have finals!"

Bella started to laugh. "That sounded so much less stupid in my head. _We can't run away and get married! We have finals!_"

Soon they were both laughing.

Edward said, "I was actually thinking more along the lines of leaving immediately after school on Wednesday. _After_ finals are over. It would be a very poor start to our married life if, as your husband, I neglected see to it that you successfully completed the 11th grade and went on to graduate high school and college."

"Really, Wednesday? Oh, God. That's…. That's so… soon. That's in… like, seventy-two hours…. That's…." A light suddenly shone in Bella's eyes, and she sat up straight, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "That's the day before Thursday."

"Yes, I do believe you're right. Wednesday, Thursday. Yes, you are right."

"_Edward_, you tried to trick me. You're trying to get me away from Forks on Thursday."

Bella's voice changed from annoyed to afraid in an instant. "Why? Why are you trying to get me away from Forks on Thursday? What's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing, I promise. No secrets, I promised, Bella. There's nothing at all."

"Then why are you trying to get me away from Forks on Thursday?"

"I wasn't. Not exactly. I won't lie to you and say the timing never occurred to me, but it wasn't by design. Keep up appearances here and take our exams, drive straight to Las Vegas, chose a chapel, our family could meet us there after they finish up here, and we could be married by the end of the week."

"You skipped a step."

"I did?"

"Mhmmm." Bella moved closer to him and kissed along his neck.

"What…. What step did I skip?"

"You've got to fit 'get a room' in there somewhere," Bella said, continuing to kiss Edward's neck.

"I can…. I can do that."

Bella slid her arms around him and pressed her forehead against his. "Are we _really_ going to do this? Are we really going to run off to Vegas and get married?"

"You say the word, and I'll make a reservation for us right now. If we leave right after school on Wednesday, I can have us there before sunrise on Thursday easily."

"Edward, that's got to be a full day's drive. We can't possibly get there that fast."

Edward just smiled at her.

"Oh, God. You're going to drive like a madman at about hundred miles an hour, aren't you?"

"Like a madman, no, of course not. There is nothing in the world more important to me than your safety."

"But I'm right about the speed part?"

"I would have thought you'd be as anxious as I to get to our room."

"Oh, I am. I am."

"I believe you mentioned something about a shower this morning," Edward said suggestively. Bella's eyes widened and her heart speed up. For once, Edward felt like he had the upper hand. She was always the one driving him wild, but now he appeared to be turning the tables on her, and the feeling was thrilling. He continued, "We can get a suite with a steam shower. With a shower with multiple jets. With an enormous jetted tub. With a fireplace. With whatever you would like."

"Uh huh."

"We can spend all day in our room, and then at night we can go out and see all the shows."

"Or we could spend all day in our room, and then we could spend all night in our room," Bella countered.

"We could," he agreed as he gently stroked her back.

"We _really_ could."

Edward had to smile at the glazed look in his mate's, _his fiancée's_, eyes. "But first we have to get you fed."

"I'm not hungry."

"Nonsense. It is my responsibility to provide for you. You want onions. I will make you onions."

Bella stood up, and Edward went to the counter where she had left the plate of onions she'd diced up.

"Um, love?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a recipe to make onions, or do you just eat them like this?"

Bella laughed and handed him the box of frozen pierogies. "The onions aren't dinner by themselves, Edward."

"Oh. I did think that was odd."

"Just a bit." Bella moved out of his way and watched the rain through the back window. "I love those trees. Did I ever tell you it was those trees that made me first think about Forks as home?"

Edward's hand stilled as he scooped pierogies out of boiling water and placed them in a colander. "No."

"Most people use a slotted spoon to do that, you know," Bella said, rolling her eyes.

Winking at her, Edward dried his hands on a dish towel. Bella shook her head and returned her attention to the rivulets of rain trickling down the window. Edward stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands unusually warm.

She continued, "I was in art class at my old school in Phoenix. We were supposed to do an abstract painting with colors that made us think of home. Everyone in the class had warm colors—golds and browns and blues. I had all greens. As soon as the teacher said 'home' I thought of those trees. When I came here last summer, I used to just stare out my bedroom window at those trees."

"You did?" Edward's voice was thick with emotion.

"I think all the green reminded me of you, since it had been your favorite color…. Edward? What is it?"

"Last summer, after the… after the incident with the bear, I used to sit in those trees and watch the house. For hours and hours, I sat there and watched over you. I couldn't see you. I was too deep in the woods, and the leaves were too dense. But I could hear you. I could hear your heartbeat. I could hear you breathe. I still do… sit out there and watch over you while you sleep."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Is…. Is that creepy? It sounds like I'm stalking you, but I swear it's not like that. It was never like that. I…. I mean… I don't…. When you're dressing… or… or… or bathing… I leave. That's when I hunt, when you're preparing for bed or for the morning. I just…. I just want to be near you."

"You mean you sit out there every night?"

"Please, don't be mad."

"I'm not. I just… I just wish I'd known you were there. I could've invited you inside."

Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been so afraid to admit that to her, but he'd known he'd needed to. They'd agreed there would be no more secrets between them. That was one down, but he still had one more to go. He could not let them start their married life with this between them, but he was afraid. This was much worse than anything else he'd ever had to ask her forgiveness for.

"Bella? There's…. There's something else you need to know. Please, don't be afraid. It's no longer a problem. I swear it. It hasn't been a problem for several months, but we promised no more secrets."

Bella turned in his arms and faced him. The tone of his voice scared her. "What is it?"

Edward was unable to answer. He tried but failed.

She slid her arms around his waist and tucked her hand under the hem of his sweater, tracing her fingers along his lower back. She gave him time, but it was clear he wasn't able to put what he wanted to tell her into words. He would open his mouth, hesitate, close it, then open it again over and over. She tightened her arms around him and placed her head against his chest. "It doesn't matter, Edward. Whatever it is, it's not worth putting yourself through this."

"Bella—"

"No, Edward. You're tearing yourself up over something you said doesn't matter anymore. You said it's not a problem anymore, and I trust you."

"You don't understand."

"I understand whatever it is it's not a problem anymore. That's enough."

"I told you…. I told you I never killed an innocent person." Edward nearly lost his nerve when Bella's hands stilled against his back, but the pause was only momentary, and she began tracing patterns against his skin again.

"I remember," she said.

"That is the truth. I swear it. I never did."

"I believe you, Edward."

"But what… I didn't tell you… was… was that I… I almost... I would have... It was just the purest of luck…. I would not have been able to resist…. Resisting would not have ever even occurred to me."

"You're beating yourself up over something that didn't even happen?"

"It would have. It would have happened. If you had been there…. If we hadn't gone away…. If we hadn't gone to Alaska…. If we had been here…. If I had come too close to you before I knew I loved you… before I knew what it felt like to watch you die… the moment I caught your scent… I… I would… I would have killed you."

Edward was sure time had never moved as slowly as it did in the moments—or were they hours?—after his confession. He'd confessed this to Charlie, too. His parents had been there with him for that. Carlisle had done his best to explain the way a particular human's blood would sometimes call to one of them. He'd likened it to a heroin addict desperate for their next hit, an analogy a police officer could appreciate. Alice and Jasper had been there too. Alice'd solemnly sworn to Charlie that had there ever been the slightest chance that Edward would have crossed Bella's scent, she would have seen it well in advance. She assured him that was just the type of thing she was constantly on her guard for, constantly on the watch for. Jasper told Charlie how heavy Edward's guilt was. Esme told Charlie Bella's safety was so paramount to Edward, before he'd even realized he loved her, that he'd chosen to leave Forks on his own before Bella returned last summer to protect her. His family had told Charlie they had all gone to Phoenix last summer to see if they could in any way help her, and that it had been Edward's idea.

Charlie had gone through every emotion possible, and Edward had watched helplessly as each one crossed his face, desperate for the man to trust him to be near his daughter. And in the end he had. It had been Tanya's word that had done it. He'd trusted her that the call of a singer's blood was nothing compared to the love for a mate, to the need to protect the mate.

As bad as that confession had been, it paled in comparison to this. But they had promised no more secrets. He had no right to ask her to spend her life with him without her knowing everything. Whatever she chose to do now, he would accept. If she took her ring off, handed it to him and told him to leave, he would.

Trying to prepare himself for her reaction, whether she reacted with anger or tears or shouts or all three, his Bella continued to surprise him. After what had to be several minutes her only response was a calm, curious, "Why?"

Edward was in agony. His mind, his heart, his soul were in misery. She had every right to ask the question. He just had no idea how to answer without ruining everything. He did his best to explain the call of a singer's blood to a vampire, but not being a monster herself, Edward knew it was not something she could ever fully understand.

"Does that happen often?" she asked.

"No. It's very rare. Carlisle, Esme, Alice, Jasper, Rosalie…. They've never experienced it, and Carlisle is almost three hundred and fifty years old."

"You didn't mention Emmett."

Edward hesitated but answered her honestly, "No. I didn't."

Bella swallowed loudly. "Alice didn't see it?"

"Emmett? Alice wasn't with us yet."

"Oh... But, if she had been, she would have?"

"She is sure she would. The moment the decision was made to go down a particular street at a particular time or to enter a particular building, whatever the case may be, she is sure she would see the outcome. That is just the type of scenario she is always on the lookout for."

"But she didn't see…."

"Because there was never any real danger. There was no chance we could have met. If we had decided to return early…."

Bella finished Edward's sentence. "She would've seen."

"She is sure she would have."

"Are _you_ sure she would have?"

"When you returned in August, I left."

"I take that as a no."

"There was no reason to take the risk. Bella, how can you possibly discuss the very real possibility that I might have killed you so calmly? Any normal human being would be in hysterics."

Bella looked up at him with her trust in him undiminished. "I stopped being normal the moment I found your letter. We both did. You need to accept that, Edward. The moment we both chose to continue writing to the other, we stopped being normal." Her eyebrows drew together for a moment as she thought. "Actually, I think that is the answer."

"The answer?"

"Don't you see? Your reaction to my scent could've been because you recognized it but didn't understand why. They say scent is one of the strongest triggers of forgotten memories. My scent would've been all over my letters to you. Not only my letters, but the lock of my hair I sent you. I think some part of you recognized my scent. Not only my scent, but the scent of my blood itself. I'd forgotten, but I cut myself. I cut my finger right before I cut that lock of hair. It's possible that there might have been some of my blood on that hair—very, very little, but enough. You, personally, may not have remembered it or even noticed it, but Carlisle may have picked up my scent when he took the letters and your pocket locket from your room without knowing what it was. If you took the memory of my scent from him, or even if you picked it up yourself from your things without looking through them, it makes sense that you would react to coming across it again. You said you'd been feeling like there was something you should remember but couldn't since the first time you met my dad. If just seeing my dad made you feel like that, it makes sense that coming across my scent again would affect you."

"Bella, you're grasping at straws trying to justify something that is unjustifiable."

"Is it impossible, then?"

"No, it's not impossible, but—"

"But what? It's so rare that before us it only happened once to one of you? It never happened to Carlisle in hundreds of years, but just by coincidence, it happens with us?"

Edward relented. If believing her theory helped Bella accept that he had once wanted to kill her, he had no right to take it away from her. "But nothing, love. You're right. It is possible."

Bella sighed and stared out the back window. The rain was still coming down hard. "What are you thinking right now? It drives me crazy not knowing," he asked her.

"I was thinking about Las Vegas. I think we should wait."

"Oh."

Bella heard the disappointment in his voice, and she hurried to explain, "Only a little while. Only a couple weeks. It's June. I was just thinking if we waited a couple weeks we could get married on your birthday. And it just…. It just doesn't feel right. Not being here on Thursday. I know there's nothing I can do, but it still feels like running away. I don't want anything about marrying you to feel like running _away _from something, I want it to feel like running _to _something. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense."

Bella's stomach rumbled. Edward laughed and kissed the top of her head. "What do I do next?"

"Melt the butter and sauté the onions, then add the pierogies."

Edward did as instructed and tossed the onions and pierogies around in the frying pan with his fingers.

Bella shouted at him, "Would you _please_ use a spatula!"

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I hope you liked it! I'm sure you can guess what happens next. Again, I'm sorry for the delay this week. Real life stuck it's foot out and tripped me up a bit—nothing bad, just busy. Send me a review and let me know what you thought! See you Saturday with chapter 48 (crosses fingers), in the meantime check out Twi Fic Central tomorrow with a teaser!


	48. Chapter 48

Gah! I have been dying to post this chapter since I posted the very first one and got my very review—last March! I really hope you'll all like it. Read on and enjoy!

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As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Thursday morning seemed to come overnight to Bella, as though Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday had simply been skipped over. Those three days could have been measured in minutes instead of hours for as quickly as they had passed.

They'd gone to school and taken their finals, Edward and his siblings acting for all the world as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary. It seemed to Bella that it had been much easier for the others to pretend than it had been for her—but then, they'd had several decades of practice compared to her few months.

She'd jumped at the slightest sound. Angela had put her hand on her shoulder once, and Bella had nearly screamed.

She'd tried to focus on her final exams, but every five minutes she looked at the clock only to find that thirty or forty minutes had passed, not five. How could time possibly be moving so fast? Time was only supposed to move that fast when you were having fun.

Making matters even more difficult, Jessica was like a thunderstorm, glaring at everyone—but her and Mike especially. Poor Mike. He'd broken out into hives the first time he saw Edward and his siblings, and it hadn't helped that Emmett seemed to have decided that teasing him was the most fun he'd ever had.

During all this, Bella had developed the nervous habit of playing with the Band-Aid she wore on her finger to hide her ring, and it had almost fallen off more than once.

When the bell at the end of their last class on Wednesday had rung, it was both a great relief and just more evidence of time slipping away. She'd been jealous of all the other kids—the normal kids with their normal teenage worries—for whom tomorrow was just the first day of summer vacation, the day they'd been looking forward to for nine months. For Bella, it was the day she'd been dreading—the day she was terrified she could lose one of her family. Or more than one.

All around her, kids were laughing and talking excitedly about their summer plans. Thoughtfully, Edward had passed the word around that Bella had planned to spend the summer with her mother, and with that explanation, everyone at school had taken her anxiety for grief, and no one had pressed her as to why she wasn't as excited as they were.

As always, Edward had come for her the moment their last class let out, and she stepped gratefully into his arms. Immediately after school, they'd gone straight to the Cullens' house. Her father bad already been there, and they'd stayed there Wednesday night. Bella had spent the night in Edward's room in Edward's arms. Her father pretended not to know.

Or maybe he was just resigned. They were _engaged,_ after all.

Bella had been wide awake until early morning, when she'd finally fallen into a very restless sleep. By the time she'd woken up, the others were gone.

It was horrible. Edward tried to act as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, as if talking about the plans the kids at school had made to go to the beach that weekend would distract her from the fact that in a few hours their family would be engaged in a fight to the death while she hung around doing nothing.

The worst part was that he wasn't just trying to act normal—Edward truly wasn't the least bit worried or anxious. Nor was Tanya. The phrase "never underestimate your opponent" kept ringing in her ears. What if they were too overconfident? What if Victoria's army was better prepared than they expected, had talents they weren't aware of, changed their plan and came ashore somewhere else?

What if….

What if….

What if….

"…we could join them, if you'd like," Edward said.

Bella had been absently pushing pieces of cereal around in a bowl, dunking them under the milk and watching them pop back up again, when Edward spoke. Upon hearing Edward's words, she dropped her spoon and stared at him wide eyed before jumping off the bar stool at the breakfast bar ready to say that hell yes, of course she wanted to join them. She couldn't believe Edward suggested it. She hadn't even considered for a second that he would agree to her being there. He hadn't been pleased about her even wanting to be there when the two sides trained together; never would she have thought he'd be willing to take her to the actual fight.

Possibilities began racing through her mind. Maybe her being there would help. Maybe just the scent of a human would distract the newborns and give their family more of an advantage. Maybe—

Edward was laughing at her. "Bella? Dearest, what are you doing?"

Bella was hopping across the kitchen on one foot trying to put her shoe on. "Are you kidding me? Hell yeah, I wanna go!"

Edward laughed, "I must say I didn't expect you to be quite so enthusiastic. However, I really don't think we need to leave just yet. It's not till Saturday, after all. Alice said the sun won't be out as long as the weatherman is calling for. It'll be cloudy again by early afternoon, so we could meet them at the beach by around two. I'm glad you want to go. You seemed to like those s'mores things. We can take…. Bella? What is it?"

Bella glared at him in disbelief. "The _beach_? You were talking about going to _the beach_?"

"Yes, of course. What did…. Oh, no. No, absolutely not. You couldn't possibly…. Who am I kidding? This is _you_ we're talking about. Bella, you can't seriously think—"

"What was I supposed to think! You asked if I wanted to join them!"

"I was talking about joining your friends from school at the beach on Saturday, Bella."

"But you said it would be no problem—over in a few minutes, easy. If you're so sure it'll be easy and no problem, why can't I be there?"

"Easy and no problem _for us_, not for you."

Bella dropped the shoe she still hadn't managed to get on her foot and sighed as she pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. Sitting down, she dropped her face into her hands. "I'm just so worried. Not knowing what's happening is the worst thing in the world. What if something goes wrong? We wouldn't even know. This isn't fair. If I was like you, I could help."

Edward stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. "Would it make you feel better if I asked Jasper to leave a cell phone on speaker somewhere off to the side so you could hear?" he suggested.

Bella kissed the back of his hand as it rested on her shoulder, grateful he was acknowledging how afraid she was and trying to give her some piece of mind. But it wouldn't help; it wouldn't be enough. Once again people she cared about were in danger, and once again there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. "I wouldn't be able to understand anything anyway. Stupid human hearing."

Edward knelt down and whispered in her ear, "I happen to love your ears just exactly as they are." He pressed a kiss against the shell of her ear to prove his point. "And I do happen to know someone who could translate for you."

Giving him a small appreciative smile, Bella nodded her head and laid her cheek against his hand. It would be better than nothing. At least she would know when it was happening, when it started and when it ended.

"Good. Now finish your cereal. The box says it's good for your cholesterol."

"I'm seventeen, Edward. My cholesterol is just fine."

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As the morning dragged on, Edward tried to keep her occupied. They watched silent movies with Tanya and her father. He played his piano for her. He even tried to teach her a few notes, but eventually, he had to accept that her assertion that she was the only person on the planet who couldn't even play "Chopsticks" was true.

Eventually, after a lunch that Bella barely took two bites of, they went back to his room and looked through some more of the items in his trunk. He even took her to the rooms over the garage, jumping to the window as she clung to his back, and showed her other things Carlisle had taken from his old home, his old bedroom. The fountain pen he'd written to her with was there, and she held it reverently but teased, "I should've sent you a ballpoint."

Edward smiled indulgently at her as she looked at the clothing hung in a large oak armoire. She ran her hand down the sleeve of one of his old suits, "I've seen you in this. This is the suit you wore when you had your portrait taken with your parents, isn't it?"

He confirmed that it was.

Bella pulled it out and looked at it, holding it up in front of him. "This is what you were wearing when I realized you were you. Try it on for me?"

"It's somewhat out of date."

"Please?"

Unable to refuse her something that seemed to distract her mind even momentarily, Edward changed into the old suit. He grinned at her amusement at the small, round leather box containing his collars.

Bella ran her hand through his hair. "Your hair was slicked back. Did you always wear it like that, do you know?"

"As far as I know, yes. Probably. It was the style at the time."

"I like it better like this." With both hands Bella ruffled and mussed his hair until it looked like a wild animal had made a nest in it. "Much better."

Edward shook his head and slid his arms around her waist, kissing her and saying, "One of us is a little informally attired."

"It's the style at the time."

Edward stepped back to the armoire, pulling out a long evening gown in deep red. It was high-waisted and made of silk satin, embroidered with swirls of gold thread along its straight-cut collarbone-revealing bust line. A sheer black short-sleeved jacket, threaded with the same fine gold, shrugged over the dress, gathering into a loose knot with a jeweled brooch just below the breast. The skirt of the lightly patterned scarlet silk trailed long and slim, falling into slow graceful rippling layers. It took her breath away—beautiful, elegant, and… _hanging with Edward's things_.

Bella arched her eyebrow and smirked at him. "Edward, is there anything you want to tell me? I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation why you had an evening gown hanging in your closet."

Instead of laughing, Edward's face turned bereft as he looked at the gown before he smiled sadly. "Esme thinks my mother may have purchased it as a gift for one of my cousins to wear to the ball she was planning, as she had no daughter of her own to buy pretty things for. Possibly Clara, as she was recently engaged and money would've been tight."

Bella swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. "It's beautiful, Edward."

"Try it on?"

"_Me_?"

"No, Jessica Stanley. Silly, yes, of course you."

"Edward, I…. I _can't_. I'll… rip it or... or ruin it… or—"

"What good is it doing anyone stuck in an old armoire in a deserted room? Please?"

Bella looked at the nearly one-hundred-year-old gown in both fear and growing excitement. The silk looked so delicate—like it would tear if she even dared to touch it—but at the same time, in the picture she'd had in her head of Edward leading her into the ball on his arm, she was suddenly wearing this dress rather than her blue one.

Hesitantly, Bella reached out for the dress, relieved when it didn't in fact fall to the floor in scraps of red silk the moment she touched it. "Turn around," she requested.

Edward was surprised—understandable, seeing that he had seen her naked multiple times—but somehow Bella thought this felt different. She pointed her finger at him and circled it in the air, motioning for him to turn around.

Stepping out of her own clothing and into the antique dress, Bella felt like she was stepping back through time itself. With Edward standing in front of her wearing a suit he'd worn all those years ago, the idea of things like cell phones and computers felt alien to her as she slid her arms into the dress. The dress buttoned up the back, and she turned around and looked over her shoulder at him. "Help me?"

Another moment of déjà vu suddenly hit her as she remembered her mother's wedding day, and Bella blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. Her mother had asked her to help her with the buttons on her dress, too.

Finishing the last button, Edward ran his hands down her arms, and she shivered. He pulled his hands away, as if their cold temperature was to blame. Bella spun around and threw her arms around him. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what, love?"

"Pull away like that. Don't."

Edward wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair before he took a step back, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Let's see."

Bella stepped backward and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"So beautiful. You just need…." Edward disappeared but was back before Bella could even call his name. He set two velvet boxes down and ran his fingers through her hair, quickly and easily twisting it up on top of her head. Reaching with one hand, he pulled an elaborate silver comb adorned with garnets and citrines out of one of the boxes and slid it into her hair, holding it in place surprisingly securely. Before Bella could comment on his skills as a hair stylist, he explained as he fastened an antique necklace around her neck. "Half of the minds I've read were women's, remember. Not to mention living with Esme, Rosalie, and Alice. Couldn't help but pick up a thing or two."

He stepped back and looked at her. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but words failed him. Holding his hand out to her he asked, "Dance with me?"

"There's no music."

"I can hear your heartbeat. That's all the music I need."

Edward took her in his arms and danced with her around the cluttered, cramped storage room. With his Bella in that dress, her beautiful brown eyes looking up at him with so much love, he could almost believe it was still 1918, and she was there with him, he was still human, the epidemic had never happened, and his beautiful fiancée and he were dancing together at the ball and celebrating the end of the war.

Almost.

All too soon, reality came crashing through the mirage, and they were thrust back into the present. He heard Tanya in his mind. _Edward. Jasper is on the phone. It's almost time._ The moment Edward stilled, his beautiful Bella's eyes filled with fear.

"It's time. Isn't it?"

"Please don't—"

"Don't worry. I know. You keep telling me."

Bella sighed and looked around sadly at the dusty storage space that had become a secret hideaway for them before turning around and looking back at him. Edward's hands deftly moved down her back, opening the buttons one by one. He laid his hands flat against her shoulders and slid the silk down her arms. Bella's eyes watched the delicate fabric pool on the floor at her feet.

Wearing just her bra and panties, she knelt down and picked the gown up, admiring it again, unable to believe she'd worn such a dress. "It really is beautiful."

"_It_ is just a dress. _You_ are beautiful."

Bella's lips twitched, but she was unable to smile. She wanted to cry out, but it got caught in her throat. Edward's arms were around her. His cool solidness against her strengthened her. This wasn't the same as last time. He was with her. She wasn't alone and worrying about him this time; he was right here in her arms. Exactly where he belonged. Taking a deep breath, Bella nodded her head and stepped back. "I'm OK now. We better…. We better get dressed."

Before Bella could slip her shoes back on, Edward was fully dressed and had returned the old suit and dress to the armoire. "You are such a show off," she teased.

"I don't mean to. You just have no idea how nice it is to not have to pretend."

Bella walked back to the window he'd carried her through.

"Love, there _are_ stairs," Edward said.

She looked at the open window and then back at him. "But then why—"

"Maybe sometimes I do mean to show off just a little."

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The first sounds to shatter the horrible silence were the wild, furious shrieks of Victoria and her newborns caught off guard and surrounded. Then came the answering deep, menacing growls—the wolves.

"What's going on? Can you tell what's going on?" Bella breathed, her eyes never leaving the phone laying on the coffee table.

Next was the crashing—if you could call it crashing. It sounded like an avalanche, like enormous boulders being thrown violently into each other.

Immediately after that came the screeching, the bone rattling sound of metal being torn apart.

"What's happening? What's that noise? Edward? What's happening?"

"Bella, please try not to worry." Edward pulled her closer to him and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

"It'll only take a few minutes, right? Only a few minutes? Right?" Bella asked in growing desperation.

Calmly, Edward said, "Everything is fine. They're actually one down from the numbers they had before."

"How do you know?"

"Jasper."

"Jasper? I didn't hear him say anything."

"No, you wouldn't have. Bella, love, please try to relax. Everything is going exactly according to plan. They are outnumbered even more so than we'd thought they'd be and were surrounded before they'd even realized they weren't alone. The wind coming off the sea worked in our favor. Our scent was being blown away from them. It bought another few seconds, cutting off any possibility of their retreating."

Together they sat in the Cullens' living room—her father and Tanya, Edward and her—all four staring at the cell phone laying on the coffee table. Bella felt ready to throw up. Her father looked somewhat better off than she felt but not much. Being a police officer, he was accustomed to being the one facing the bad guy, and she knew having to be the one to sit back and let others fight had to be even more difficult for him than it was for her.

Edward and Tanya both looked completely calm; to look at them, they could have been listening to the weather forecast rather than to their family fighting crazed newborns created for no other reason than to destroy them. Of course, for them, the high-pitched, teeth-rattling shrieking was intelligible.

On and on the awful crashing and screeching went. These were the longest minutes of her life, and Bella prayed it would be over soon. Edward sat next to her, still as a statue except for the fingers trailing up and down her back.

Bella closed her eyes and tried to shut out the horrible noise coming from the phone and concentrate on nothing but the feel of Edward's fingers, but suddenly those fingers were gone. Before she could open her eyes, both Edward and Tanya were on their feet, identical looks of horror on their faces. "What?! Edward, what?! What happened?!"

Edward and Tanya stood frozen, staring at each other. The unmasked wild fury in their eyes was unlike anything Bella had ever seen before or wished to see again.

She and her father glanced at each other before jumping up as well. Her father asked Tanya what had happened, but instead of answering him, she looked at him in combined unadulterated terror and murderous rage. Her beautiful face was twisted into something animalistic and unrecognizable.

Bella's stomach churned when Edward turned his beautiful amber eyes on her. She'd never seen true fear in those eyes before, and to see it there now almost caused her knees to buckle.

With his hands cradling her face, Edward ordered her, "Bella, listen to me. I need you to listen to me. DO NOT leave the house. Do you hear me? DO NOT leave this house. No matter what happens, stay inside until someone comes to get you. Do you hear me? DO NOT go outside."

"Edward, I'm scared. What's going on?" Bella questioned desperately.

Edward's fingers stroked her face like a blind person trying to memorize every curve. His eyes were wild. "It's Victoria. She grabbed two of her army and took off running."

A few feet away, Tanya was repeating Edward's words to her father almost verbatim.

"She's getting away!" Bella cried.

Edward opened and closed his mouth twice before shaking his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "No. No, love. She has no intention of getting away. She's only buying herself a few minutes. She intends to go out with a bang."

"What…. But—"

"She's coming here. To Forks. She wants Forks. She knows we'll catch up to her, but with her head start, she'll have a few minutes, and that's all she'll need to massacre half the town."

"WHAT!" Bella shrieked.

Touching her face, her hair, her shoulder, her arms, Edward attempted to reassure her. "That's her plan, but she won't get that far, love. She won't get near Forks. Tanya and I will stop her—she doesn't know about us; she's running straight at us. Alice had a vision. She saw Victoria's last second decision in her mind for just a moment because the wolves weren't involved. Victoria's following our trail through the woods which will take her directly here. Tanya and I can stop her, but we have to go _now_. Leah is following them—she took off after them almost immediately, and Alice lost the vision—but Tanya and I can reach them faster, keep them farther from Forks. She's almost here. We have to go. Bella, _stay in the house_!"

Before Bella could reach out to him, Edward was gone and her hands closed around empty air. She tried to call his name but could only manage a strangled whimper. Without moving her eyes from where Edward had stood only moments ago, she reached out blindly for her father. "Dad?"

A strong, warm hand closed around hers and pulled her into strong, warm arms against a strong, warm chest. The breath on the side of her face was warm. It was all wrong. "I love you, Bells. Don't you ever forget that."

Bella could feel tears burning her eyes, but she still couldn't move her eyes from where Edward had just disappeared. "Dad?"

"Edward is a good man, Bells. He'll take good care of you."

"Dad?"

Bella realized somewhere in her mind that her father was telling her good bye, but she was in too great a state of shock to fully grasp it before he too was gone.

"Daddy?"

Standing alone in the Cullens' living room, Bella felt darkness closing in around her. She felt like she was on the bathroom floor in Phoenix, retching after Edward got sick, but her mother and Phil were dead, and she was alone. She felt like she was curled up on Alice and Jasper's bedroom floor crying and shaking after her mother and Phil were killed, but Edward had had to leave, and she was alone.

Her throat felt constricted. It hurt to inhale. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. She whimpered and gagged, but she was alone; there was no one there this time to hold her. Alone, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and clenched her hands tightly.

Bella felt the gold band of her engagement ring digging into her fingers, and she took a deep breath. She wasn't alone. Edward wasn't standing next to her, but that didn't mean she was alone.

And she wasn't helpless.

Through the pocket of her green hoodie, she could feel the small, rectangular piece of blue plastic against her forearm. Her Plan Z. Her throat relaxed, and her back straightened. She wasn't helpless, not this time. She had her Plan Z.

Bella took two deep breaths before running through the house and out the back door. Edward would be livid, but he would just have to get over it. He was in danger and this time—_this time_—there was something she could do if everything went wrong.

In the spacious back yard, the panic began to threaten her again. She had no idea which way to go. There was no path. But her father had followed them, and if he could, she could.

Desperately turning in circles, Bella looked for anything that might tell her which way they'd gone into the woods.

_There, broken branches!_

She started running and entered the woods where she saw the broken branches. In their haste, Edward and Tanya had simply run right through the woods, not bothering to dodge the trees. There were freshly broken branches everywhere—just like Edward had said of Victoria and her newborns, they might as well have left her a trail of bread crumbs.

Trying to hurry but trying to not trip, Bella made her way through the woods until the God awful sounds of crashing boulders reached her ears. Her mouth went dry, and her heart hammered away in her chest. This time, one of those boulders was Edward.

And this time, the fighting was real.

Did he know she was coming yet? He couldn't hear her thoughts. Could he hear her footsteps, her heartbeat yet?

The noise was growing louder, and Bella prayed that meant she was getting close. She tried to move faster until her foot caught on an exposed root, and she nearly fell.

There was a sudden high-pitched yelp that cut off abruptly followed by a horrible, evil laugh. _Leah! That was Leah! Oh, God! That was Leah!_

Bella forgot about trying not to fall and just ran. Out of breath but filled with adrenaline, she cleared the woods after what was probably less than half of a mile and came out in a narrow clearing near the river just as another wolf came charging from a different direction. Coming at him from behind, his dagger-like teeth bared and snapping, the second wolf's large jowls closed around the neck of a vampire just as it lunged at Leah's prone form. They landed hard, and the vampire threw him off, but the wolf took a large chunk of its shoulder with him.

The vampire roared with fury and pain and advanced on the wolf. The wolf made to lunge at him again but abruptly abandoned the attack, moving to stand directly over Leah's motionless body defensively, still baring its teeth and growling threateningly.

Now that the large animal was still, Bella could see that it was much smaller than the others she had seen, and its paws were too large for its body. It was only a child. Clinton. The wolf standing so protectively over Leah's body was twelve-year-old Clinton Penn.

Bella swallowed hard. Her eyes searched out Edward. He was about forty yards away. His face was almost unrecognizable, the savage expression on it was so intense.

"Oh, lookey boys! Another one!" The redheaded vampire—_Victoria_, Bella seethed to herself—crouched in front of Edward, taunting him as they circled each other. Her voice was childlike, playful. This was a game to her. "It was most considerate of you to bring snacks. I'm getting quite… _thirsty_. A nice little appetizer would be lovely before I destroy your little town."

Bella met Edward's eyes over the redhead's shoulder. Oh, yeah—he was mad. She shrugged her shoulders. He was mad she had followed him—he was exasperated, but he wasn't surprised.

She saw her father. He looked at her for one long, agonized second but instead of coming to her, he moved farther away from her.

The newborn in front of Tanya dove toward her, drawing Bella's attention, but out of the corner of her eye she saw her father's hand move. She turned her head just in time to see the silver blade of the pocket knife from his camping gear slash across his palm, leaving an angry red line behind. It only took a second for the thin red line to spread down his hand, the red running down his fingers like the rivulets of rain on the back window.

Bella tried to scream, but it died in her throat. The story of the Third Wife Jacob had told her all those months ago was replaying in her head as if he was standing beside her telling her now.

All movement stopped as five vampires froze for an instant before three turned toward her father, their eyes wild and frenzied, their lips pulled back from their teeth in a demonic grimace.

Before the three could so much as take a step, Edward, Tanya, and Clinton were on them. The fights were so fast—much faster than they'd been just a moment ago—Bella had no idea what was happening. She knew the scent of her father's blood would change everything, but who would that change benefit? Edward, Tanya, and Clinton? Or Victoria and her newborns?

The swirling blur that was Tanya and the vampire she was fighting emitted an horrific metallic screech and something long and narrow went soaring through the air, crashing loudly into a tree not far from Bella. It fell to the ground, and Bella recognized it and recoiled. It was an arm, and it was dragging itself across the ground by its fingers.

Feeling sick, Bella recognized by the sleeve it still wore that— thank God— it was not Tanya's arm.

Ignoring her churning stomach and fighting her revulsion, Bella ran toward it. She would do what she could to help.

"Don't touch it!" Edward shouted at her.

Edward's warning stopped her just before she could reach down for it to throw it further away. As if driven by some mindless instinct, the hand continued to blindly drag itself along the ground toward its owner. Frantically looking around, Bella spotted a long and heavy-looking broken branch on the ground. Grabbing it quickly, she swung it like a golf club, sending the disembodied arm sailing through the air again to land farther away near the river.

A deafening roar erupted from the injured vampire. Edward and Tanya laughed with amusement, Clinton grunted as if impressed.

Bella's eyes were focused on Edward. At least they were trying to focus on him, but he was little more than a blur, visible as a solid form for a fraction of a second before again moving faster than her eyes could follow. _Dammit, Edward! How am I supposed to help you if I can't even see you? _

Terrified but determined, Bella inched closer to Edward until she was only a few yards away, her hand wrapped tightly around the blue plastic in her pocket. The vampire that had been circling around Clinton suddenly abandoned him and joined the fight between Edward and Victoria. For one horrifying second, Bella thought he was coming at her.

Clinton only hesitated for a moment, whining and nudging Leah's still motionless body with his large muzzle before charging after him, but that second of two against one was enough to give Victoria the chance she needed to get behind Edward and get her arms around him.

Clinton lunged at the other vampire and tore the arm off his already injured shoulder.

With her eyes glued to Edward, time seemed slow down until Bella thought it might stop all together. Victoria had her back to her, ignoring her completely. She could never be a threat to a vampire—she was only human after all, nothing to Victoria but a celebratory snack.

The redheaded vampire's arms were still around Edward, and he pulled at them, furiously trying to free himself.

Desperate, Bella's hand tightened around the plastic cylinder in her pocket. Running toward Edward as fast as her human legs would carry her, Bella pulled her hand out of her pocket and jumped onto the redhead's back.

Frantic, Edward screamed, "God Almighty, Bella! What the hell are you doing?!"

Victoria seemed amused by her. She looked back at Bella over her shoulder and smirked, her ruby red eyes filled with an evil mirth. "Well, well…. This is certainly a first. Today is just a day of… surprises. Come to get a better view as I kill your friend, little girl?"

With a flick of Bella's thumb, a small flame appeared atop the little blue lighter, and she thrust her hand into the wild red mane of hair.

In an instant, the arrogant amusement in Victoria's eyes was replaced by shock. That shock would be the last expression they would ever hold.

The red headed vampire released Edward as she spun around infuriatedly. The movement was so fast, Bella was flung several yards away, hitting the ground hard on her back and knocking the wind out of her. Victoria snarled furiously, but it was too late.

Horrified, hurting, and gasping for breath, Bella scampered away on her elbows, unable to take her eyes off the nightmare in front of her.

The small flame from the cheap disposable lighter she'd seen in the checkout line at Thriftway had ignited Victoria's hair as if it had been doused with gasoline. Instantly, her hair burst into a ball of fire, and Victoria thrashed wildly and blindly for several seconds before dropping to the ground, engulfed in the flames.

Eyes wide with horrified awe, Bella was unable to look away from the burning mound near the river bed or the spiraling tendrils of thick, dark purple smoke. She wanted to get as far away from the smoking pile as possible, but she could no longer move a single muscle.

Edward was at her side before she could draw breath to scream, and in less time than it took her heart to pound madly in her chest even once, he had her in his arms. "Bella, love, look away."

Unable to force her eyes away from the smoldering pile that had been Victoria, Bella grasped his shirt desperately. "Her eyes…. Edward, her _eyes_…. They were _red_."

"I know. I know, love."

Her father had run to them, and one hand grasping each of them, Bella trembled and shook her head as if she could deny to herself what she'd just seen. "Her _eyes_…."

The thick, purple smoke was almost dark enough to be black, and it smelled as black as it looked. It had the heavy, cloying sent of burning incense combined with a smell Bella would later only be able to think of as the stench of death itself, and it burned her eyes, her nose and throat, and made her choke.

Edward walked with her slowly and carefully, setting her down gently at the base of a tall tree.

At that moment, the vampire fighting Tanya lost its fight, and the smoldering pile quickly doubled in size as Tanya tore the body apart, new flames roaring to life and sending still more of the putrid purple smoke billowing into the air just as the rest of the Cullens and the pack rushed into the clearing.

At the loss of its allies and the arrival of the others, the newborn facing off against Clinton turned and fled but was chased and taken down quickly by Clinton and two other wolves. Peripherally, Bella's overwrought mind noted that the other two allowed the first blow to be delivered by the young boy, before the three savagely tore the body of the vampire to pieces and carried them to the fire in their teeth.

At the same time a small, humorless chuckle escaped her lips, Bella's stomach lurched, making it feel like everything she'd eaten in the past twenty four hours was going to escape her lips as well.

Edward held Bella against him like he was afraid to let go. Her father and Tanya, Bella noticed as her senses were starting to return to her, were holding each other much the same way.

She closed her eyes and willed the images surrounding them away. They were safe. It was over. Closing her eyes, Bella concentrated on the feel of Edward's arms around her, his body next to her. She focused her mind on nothing but the feel of him, the smell of him. It was over, and they were all safe.

With a guilty start, her eyes flew open. They weren't all safe. Leah. How had she let herself forget Leah?

Pushing herself to sit upright, she scanned the area, her eyes quickly settling on the crowd surrounding the fallen wolf, Quileutes and Cullens side by side. "Leah," Bella gasped.

Sam was human again and kneeling near her head, gently stroking her face. He looked like he was fighting back tears.

"She'll be fine, love," Edward assured her. "She was seriously injured, but she'll be fine. She was knocked unconscious, and she has several broken bones and internal injuries. Sam has given Carlisle permission to examine her, but he's never been to veterinarian school, and no one knows if it is safe for her to phase back until her injuries have healed. Her vital signs are all stable. But… her bones had already started to mend—the wolves heal very rapidly. Carlisle is resetting them so they'll heal correctly. He's having to re-break them."

Bella's eyes drifted shut and she leaned heavily against Edward's chest. She was grateful Leah was unconscious for this. She knew how painful one broken bone was, but she couldn't imagine how painful it would be having someone re-break several at once.

The danger passed, Edward's moment of frantic terror resurfaced in his mind. "Now do you mind telling me just exactly what you thought you were doing?" he forced out between clenched teeth.

"Helping you," Bella answered simply, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Helping me? Bella, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Do you have _an_y idea how difficult a feat that is?"

Tanya spoke for the first time, her voice muffled as her face was pressed against Charlie's chest. "We four are going to have to have a Very Long Talk."

After several quiet moments, Carlisle came over to them and took Charlie's injured hand in his. "You're going to need stitches," he said calmly.

At the reminder of her father's injury, Bella looked over at the rest of their family. All were looking uncomfortable. All were holding their breath.

When she heard the sound of fabric tearing, Bella looked back at her father. Carlisle had ripped a piece of fabric from the bottom of his shirt and was wrapping it around her father's hand.

Jacob was human again, and he came over to them. He looked angry, furious. His eyes were locked on Bella's left hand.

"You're _marrying_ him?"

Before Bella could answer, he turned and dove toward the woods. Phasing as he dove, his hands were paws again before they hit the ground, the denim cutoffs he'd had on ripped to shreds and floating to the ground like feathers.

Bella's eyes welled with tears. She swallowed the pain she felt at the revulsion held in those three words and buried her face in Edward's chest. Edward held her tenderly for a moment before his embrace turned protective. She felt the change in his body instantly. His back stiffened. His chest rumbled with a low growl.

Thinking Jacob had changed his mind, frightened he was coming back to fight Edward, Bella's eyes followed his to the woods. But Edward was looking in an altogether different direction from where Jacob had just vanished.

As Edward's eyes slowly moved to his adoptive father, Bella's moved with them, as if Edward's actions controlled hers, as if an invisible wire connected them so that when one moved, the other moved as well. "You missed one," he said.

The surprised eyes of the vampires—who all except Carlisle, Tanya, and Edward were still holding their breath—met the equally surprised eyes of the wolves.

"A girl," Edward said. "She's headed this way." He cocked his head to the side slightly. Regret, confusion, worry… all were present in his eyes, but the confusion was dominant. "Carlisle, she's holding her breath."

Jasper was looking at the exact spot in the trees as Edward. "She's scared, Carlisle."

The wolves were growling lowly, pacing. Bella could see the growls were directed equally between the Cullens and the spot in the woods where their attention was fixed. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat in her chest. The wolves were realizing the Cullens had held something back from them. In confirmation of her suspicion, Carlisle turned to Sam. His voice was diplomatic, apologetic without being repentant; he acknowledged that neither side had felt comfortable giving all their secrets away. "We have kept nothing from you that you have not kept from us."

Standing protectively in front of Leah, shielding her from the threat of the approaching newborn, Sam stared into Carlisle's eyes for several long, tense seconds before raising his hand to silence the others, his eyes still trained on Carlisle's until they too turned toward the woods.

As Bella watched the woods, her heart beat furiously in her chest. One of Victoria's newborns had survived and was approaching them. And no one was doing anything about it. She gripped Edward's arm. Why the hell was no one doing anything about it?

Slowly, a young girl stepped hesitantly into the clearing. She was wet, but she was so filthy the water had done little if anything to clean away the dirt. Her clothing was torn and stained with what Bella knew could only be blood. Her long, dark hair was matted with knots and leaves. Her eyes were dark; from this distance, they looked pure black to Bella. She was shaking visibly, even to Bella's human eyes, and her dark eyes flickered from one person to the next.

Bella thought she couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen when Victoria had changed her. Even knowing the young girl was a human-feeding vampire, Bella couldn't help but feel sorry for her—the girl was alone and terrified.

Edward turned to Carlisle; when he spoke it didn't sound like his own voice. It sounded like he was speaking with the voice of the scared young girl in front of them. "Safe?" The single word was clearly a question.

The girl's eyes widened, and as she looked at Edward, she took a step backward, as if she was considering turning and running.

Carlisle looked to Sam before answering. "Perhaps the pack should leave," he suggested.

"We're staying." Sam folded his arms in front of him, glaring at the girl and causing her to tremble.

The girl whimpered and took another step backward. Rosalie spoke for the first time, returning Sam's glare tenfold and placing herself between him and the girl, protecting her. "She is just _a_ _child_."

_A child._ There had been more feeling in those two words than Bella had ever heard from Rosalie in all the months she'd known her.

Carlisle spoke cautiously, "What is your name, little one?"

"She's afraid to inhale." Edward spoke to his father without taking his eyes off the young girl. "She doesn't understand how we can stand it."

"It takes many, many years of practice, but it is possible," Carlisle assured her. The girl's dark eyes darted between Carlisle and Edward. "My name is Carlisle. This young man is my son, Edward. This is my family."

The girl's face twisted with pain at the word "family." Carlisle slowly approached her. His voice overflowed with compassion. "Did Victoria kill your family, little one?"

Bella thought even the wolves looked contrite, their enormous heads lowered. The girl slowly shook her head, answering "no."

Edward gasped and tightened his grip on Bella protectively. The evident anger in his voice grew as he spoke. "She was a runaway. Victoria _promised_ her a family."

The girl's face flinched at Edward's tone, her creator's name, and the false promise she'd made.

Bella looked at Edward. She could feel from his body that his anger was not directed at the girl standing in front of them. It wasn't _against_ her. It was _for _her. There was more he'd seen in the girl's mind than what he was relaying.

"She was cold and hungry and… and Victoria… promised her a _warm meal_. Well, at least she delivered on that one." The girl flinched again, with her entire body this time. "She's sorry, Carlisle. She'd just woken up, and she fed before she even knew what she was doing. She was horrified afterward. She… she sat there holding the body and crying. She tried to resist after that. She doesn't want to hurt people, but Victoria… and the others… weren't exactly understanding or supportive. She doesn't understand there is another way."

Carlisle continued to approach her, but it was Rosalie who spoke. Bella could see the pain in her face from the lingering scent of her father's blood. "There _is _another way. Our family," this time the girl grimaced at the word family, "you can see we are different, you can see by our eyes we are different. We survive on the blood of _animals_, not humans." Rosalie slowly approached the girl, her hands raised to demonstrate she was not a threat. "I can show you…. I would like to show you... if you'd let me."

"Rose…." Emmett's voice was anxious as his wife neared the girl. Bella had never heard Emmett sound so serious.

Rosalie stopped and looked back toward him, pleading, "She's a _child_, Em. A _child_."

Rosalie looked back toward the girl and continued toward her. No one else moved. "My husband, Emmett. He won't hurt you, little one. No one here will hurt you."

The young vampire's eyes darted to the wolves.

"Allies, sweet one. They will leave you be if you promise not to hunt humans. Can you do that?" Rosalie had reached within an arm's length of the frightened girl. "Can you do that?"

While still holding her breath, the girl nodded her head vigorously.

"There, now," Rosalie crooned. "It's alright. There is no need to be afraid. Can you tell me your name, sweet one?"

Bella's attention had been so firmly fixed on Rosalie and the newborn that she jumped when Edward spoke. "She's still afraid to inhale, Rosalie. She's afraid to open her mouth."

"The man whose hand is bleeding, his name is Charlie," Rosalie explained. "It's easier to resist, especially at first, if you recognize them as people. He is mated to my cousin, the lady with him. Her name is Tanya. The girl with my brother, Edward, is his daughter, Bella. Bella is my brother's mate."

Bella smiled at Rosalie. That was the first time she'd heard Rosalie acknowledge her as Edward's mate.

Edward spoke again. "Her name is Bree."

Rosalie smiled at the girl and slowly, so the girl would not get spooked and run, she touched the side of her face. "Bree. That's a lovely name."

Bree's hand reached toward Rosalie, but she hesitated and it fell back to her side. Rosalie held her arms up to her and Bree stepped toward her, falling into her arms and clinging to her.

Bella suddenly understood what the emotion in Rosalie's voice had been; it was maternal. She also remembered that Edward had told her they were unable to have children. Unless she was very much mistaken, Bella realized she was watching a vampire adoption.

Edward sighed. "Alice, please don't make me say that."

Bella looked over at where Alice was standing, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her face lit up with her beautiful smile.

Edward sighed again, resigned. "Alice says she will look nice in peach."

Bella saw Alice glare at him, but Edward ignored her. Knowing Alice as well as she did, Bella suspected Alice had wanted him to pass on more than just "she'll look nice in peach."

Rosalie turned and looked at her sister and smiled.

Leah groaned in pain as she began to wake up. Sam forgot the newborn and returned to her, kneeling down next to her. "Leah?"

Leah whimpered, and Sam leaned close to her, stroking her face and side.

Carlisle returned to his patient, moving slowly now that she was awake to not startle her into moving too quickly and reinjuring herself. "Leah, you've been badly injured, but you are going to be fine. Your body is healing at an extraordinary rate, but I'm afraid it will likely be a few days before you are up and about. May I have your permission to examine you?"

Carlisle's eyes moved to Sam, who was looking at the wolf sitting next to Leah and licking her face. Sam nodded his head. "She agrees."

Edward whispered to Bella as his father lightly ran his fingers over the injured wolf's flank. "Her brother, Seth."

Carlisle spoke to Sam. "She is healing at a remarkable rate. Her bones are healing nicely, but I'm sorry, I can't tell you if it would be safe for her to phase back. I just don't know what the stress of it would do to her bones and her other injuries. If her bones were broken again as her body shifted from one form to another, they could cause very serious internal injuries. If you would like, I can give her something to help with the pain and help her sleep."

"Leah?" Sam looked at the injured girl. His hand never stopped tenderly stroking her face.

Leah grunted, and her brother nodded his head at Sam.

"That would be very much appreciated… Dr. Cullen. Thank you."

Silence filled the small clearing after Sam's words. Nothing could be heard but the running of the water in the river until Carlisle answered him, "You are most welcome."

The horrible tension of the day finally seemed over. Rosalie and Emmett were quietly talking to Bree, who still had not stepped out of Rosalie's arms, and not only would Leah's injuries heal and she would be fine, but Sam had given his consent for Carlisle to continue to treat her even now that the immediate fear for her was over.

Bella relaxed into Edward's arms. "Easy, you said. No problem, you said."

Carlisle suggested the best way to move Leah would be for someone to return to their house and find something that could serve as a stretcher to carry the injured girl through the woods back to the house, from where she could be driven back to her mother's home. Sam agreed to the plan, and Alice and Jasper had just stepped into the woods when once again Edward's body stiffened.

"Car_lisle_..." The fear in his voice speaking that one word was unlike anything Bella had yet heard there. It was worse than the night in the woods when she'd admitted to him that she knew what he was and he'd confessed everything to her. It was worse than the fear it had held when he told her only a short while ago to stay in the house. Worse than when he'd yelled his warning to her to not touch the severed arm. Worse, even, than when she jumped on Victoria's back. It was worse than all of those times combined, and it was mirrored and magnified in his eyes and on his face. Edward was absolutely, completely terrified. His wide, fear-filled amber eyes turned slowly from where they were staring unblinkingly into the woods to his father. It looked like he was having trouble forcing himself to speak. Slowly, with a fear that sounded almost reverent, he quietly whispered two words, "The Volturi."

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Well? Well? What did you think? Now, you all knew the Volturi had to stick their ancient, chalky-white noses in, didn't you? I hope it lived up to your expectations! I've been asked a number of times who would take Victoria down, Edward or Tanya, and each time I just started grinning like some kind of deranged nut case. NEITHER! I really hope you all liked it. Drop me a review and tell me what you thought. Only TWO more chapters to go!


	49. Chapter 49

This chapter has been edited quite a bit from how I originally had it. There was something I had always wanted to include but couldn't quite work it in and eventually gave it up, but after reading one or two comments after the last chapter, I had to go back and fit it in. I think it fits well where I put it—maybe I just needed to leave it alone for a while and come back to it. While I don't go into much detail, you know it happened. A couple other things were added, deleted, or changed. I think I've got a kind of separation anxiety. I can't believe there's only one chapter left after this! I can't stop going back and making mostly irrelevant little changes here and there. Even after I got it back from my betas I kept fiddling around with it, so any errors, especially continuity errors, are all my fault.

I'm so sorry I wasn't able to respond to many reviews this week. Please know I read them all and I appreciate them all very much! The idea I've got for a new fic has taken over my mind, and when I'm not messing around with IrY, I'm looking up information for ideas for that fic. I'm tentatively calling it _One Step Closer_ since it was inspired by "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perry, but I'm pretty sure I like that name, and I'll be keeping it. It's vampire Bella/human Edward. Don't look for it anytime soon, though. I won't post it 'til it it's all written, and since I've only got about 5,000 words (and several dozen pages of notes) that won't be anytime soon.

As always, thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_Edward was absolutely, completely terrified. His wide fear filled amber eyes turned slowly from where they were staring unblinkingly into the woods to his father. It looked like he was having trouble forcing himself to speak. Slowly, with a fear that sounded almost reverent, he quietly whispered two words, "The Volturi." _

Carlisle didn't speak right away, but Edward could hear his mind working feverishly. His father still held onto his desire to believe his old friends magnanimous and fair leaders, but that desire was based more on his wishing it to be so rather than any evidence supporting it. Still, his father was not so naive, nor so blinded by his faith in their benevolence or their alleged regard for him, to not recognize that their family was in very real and very immediate danger.

The girl, Bree…. If Edward had needed any more proof of the danger rapidly approaching them all, she unknowingly provided it. The girl had a gift, and a very useful one at that, although she'd had to pay a very high price to acquire it. The girl knew whether or not a person or a situation was safe or if she was in danger. Such a gift could be very, very useful to her—indeed, it had already been. It was that gift which had told her early on not to trust Victoria, and luckily for her, she had listened to it. Her gift had led her to recognize the danger of following Victoria, had led her to fall behind the others in the water, to not emerge with them, to stay behind, to stay hidden in the water until it was safe to come out. Then, once she'd sensed it was safe to surface, it had led her to them. It had told her to trust them, to trust Rosalie in particular, and in spite of her fear, she had.

Edward had heard her thoughts as she'd approached them—just one word repeated over and over again: _Safe._

It was a very useful gift. But it had come at a horrible cost. It had come as the result of a lifetime of abuse at her father's hands, with her mother's knowledge. A lifetime of physical abuse, emotional abuse, and—Edward shuddered at the brief, blurred memory that played through the girl's mind at the mention of the word "family"—sexual abuse had developed in the girl an almost sixth sense of avoiding danger, avoiding angering or drawing her father's attention in any way. Now, as a vampire, that sixth sense had developed further into an instinct for knowing whether she was safe.

Additionally, the suffering she had endured in her abusive, violent home had created a deep aversion to being the cause of suffering in others, which was at the root of her reluctance and regret for feeding from humans. Much as Carlisle once had hundreds of years ago, the young girl had tried to starve herself, but unlike Carlisle, she had had Victoria and the others feeding at their will around her and had been unable to resist.

At this moment, as the Volturi approached, the girl clung to Rosalie with one word playing over and over in her mind: _Unsafe_.

The Volturi were approaching, and she was right, not one of them was safe.

Carlisle finally spoke, firmly addressing Sam. "The pack needs to leave—_now_." Edward understood his father's motivation. He held out a hope for themselves, small though that hope was, but the Volturi would deal swiftly with the wolves. His father looked first at him, then at Bella curled tightly in his arms, then at Charlie. "Please… take Bella and Charlie with you."

Edward shook his head and tightened his grip on his mate until she protested. "It's too late. He'll know. Aro will know, and Demetri is with them."

Carlisle visibly started. _Aro?_

Edward nodded his head at the silent question. "Aro…. Marcus…" Edward scowled at the next name. "Caius, the entire guard, the wives—"

"The _wives_?" It was Eleazar who spoke. "The _wives_? But…. the wives _never_ leave Volterra."

"Well, they're here now."

Edward could feel his beautiful mate in his arms, feel her warm, soft body against his. He should have taken her to Las Vegas. He should have insisted they leave yesterday as they'd discussed. They could have been preparing for their wedding right now. He should have gotten her far away from here, no matter how mad it made her. It would have kept her safe. The pack weren't the only ones the Volturi would deal with swiftly. His mate or not, Bella was human, and she knew he wasn't. Edward growled deep in his chest. They would have to go through him to get to her.

"Who are the Volturi?" she asked him.

Edward felt her warm breath on his chest through the fabric of his shirt. "The Volturi are… our lawmakers. They are… our governing body… our royal family, you could say. They enforce our laws, protect our kind from exposure."

"You have laws?"

"Basically just one. Everything else stems from that one."

"Which is?"

Edward answered her reluctantly, "Keep the secret."

Bella nodded her head against his chest as she spoke. "Oh."

Carlisle explained further, "Aro… can read minds. He requires physical contact, skin to skin contact, but he can read every thought you've ever had. Your every thought, your every private moment is open to him. You can hide nothing."

Tanya was whimpering, holding Charlie as tightly as she dared.

Edward tried to push her thoughts as far to the back of his mind as he could; they were both too painful and too personal. She was remembering her mother, Sasha. Sasha had broken the law and the Volturi had executed her for it. They had very nearly executed her sisters and her as well. The Volturi had no qualms about condemning someone for guilt by association.

Eleazar had moved to stand in front of Carmen, even though he knew it was a futile gesture. His thoughts were as bad, if not worse, than Tanya's. He was remembering all the trials and executions he'd witnessed during his time with the Volturi—and a trial inevitably resulted in an execution.

The pack was thinking with one mind: _Fight_. Sam had not phased back into his wolf form. He did not want the disadvantage of not being able to communicate, and he could phase back in an instant if needed. He didn't understand. None of the pack understood. You simply did not fight against the Volturi. It simply wasn't possible.

Edward could feel Bella's pulse drumming through his entire body as her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes were wide, locked on his face. His eyes moved to her neck, to the pulse beating rapidly beneath the fragile skin, his thoughts echoing Tanya's on the matter. If they were to change them now, right now, right here… might it not be too late? If it wasn't too late, could Edward really condemn Bella to this half-life? If it was the only way to save her? He already knew the answer. He'd had to decide that already, months ago when she fell in the woods. He still didn't like it, but his answer remained the same—unequivocally, yes.

Once he learned of their gifts, Edward knew Aro would want Alice, Jasper, Kate, and him for his guard. He would also want Eleazar back. Might his hope that they would grow tired of their "deviant" lifestyle—as he considered it—and accept the honor of places in his guard, _his_ _collection, _be enough to spare them? But could it be enough to spare the rest of their family?

In a matter of moments, the dark shapes of the Volturi could be seen making their way through the woods. The wolves were growing restless, able to sense their approach. Sam silenced them with a slight raising of his hand. He now realized the severity of the situation, which the rest of the pack had not. They were overconfident from the fight such a short while ago, but nothing could be further from Victoria's army of newborns than the Volturi. There were no similarities between the two, which they would see for themselves soon enough. The Volturi were highly skilled, wholly lethal.

Edward explained quietly, while he still had time to speak before being overheard. "Every member of the guard has a unique gift. Combined, they are unbeatable. They can drop you to the ground in indescribable pain so intense you are completely incapable of defending yourself, or alternately, they can block the senses of large crowds all at once, leave you blind and deaf, as defenseless as a baby, while they destroy an enemy one by one at their leisure. And they can do all this without coming anywhere near you."

Bella shivered in his arms and held him tighter. He would give his life a thousand times to protect her from what was approaching if he could. But he couldn't. There was no way to protect her from the Volturi, and there was no point in trying to keep the truth from her. Edward held her close, remembering all the words they'd exchanged to each other—from the very first written in letters when they first fell in love while believing they would never meet, to all the words spoken since then. If these were to be some of the last words they spoke to each other, he would not have them be lies.

She and Charlie, he knew, would not be able to see anything yet, but their eyes were fixed on the same spot as everyone else's. He could hear the collective mind of the pack counting the figures as they neared. He could hear Jacob's desperate attempt to return to his pack in time to either fight or die with them.

Once the Volturi were close enough that Bella's and Charlie's human eyes could see them, they slowed to a more human pace. Aro's thoughts told him that they wanted to give the appearance of being considerate and not frightening the humans. With Aro, it was all about appearances. Even at their slower pace, it only took them moments to exit the woods and enter the clearing to stand before them.

Aro smiled at Carlisle, ignoring the wolves and Bella and Charlie, and addressed him warmly.

"Carlisle, old friend, it has been far, far too long," Aro purred.

Ever the diplomat, Carlisle remained calm, holding onto the hope that he could resolve the situation peacefully.

It amused Edward that the man believed he did not have any special gifts. Carlisle's gift was his innate goodness, his conscience, his ability to make people genuinely _want_ to follow him despite the difficulties the choice to do so presented. Gifts Aro did not value because he could never hope to understand them. His psychological makeup was the polar opposite. People followed him blindly, like sheep, because if they didn't choose to on their own, he simply took away their will to say no.

Edward could hear a member of the guard, Chelsea. Chelsea possessed the gift of either strengthening or destroying the bonds between covenmates—very useful to Aro if he wanted a particular vampire for his guard but the vampire in question was loyal to their own coven. She was trying to break the bonds between them and growing increasingly frustrated that she was unable to do so.

Edward was already aware of the strength of the bonds between his family and of the bond between the wolves, and he was aware of the importance the pack put on the treaty between them, but it was a surprise to him just how strong the bond that treaty created between the two sides was in spite of the mutual animosity and distrust. Chelsea could break all but the very strongest of bonds, but she was unable to drive a wedge between the wolves and his family.

"Aro, it has indeed, old friend. It is very good of you to come and call on us. And to bring all your family, we are indeed honored," Carlisle responded to the leader of the Volturi.

As Carlisle greeted Aro, Edward allowed his gaze to drift from Aro to Chelsea. Jasper had sensed her frustration and with his military training decided it was best to acknowledge that they were aware she was failing in her assigned task. _Let her know you're on to her. Rub it in that she's failing. _Edward made eye contact with her and smirked. From beneath the hood of her storm cloud gray cloak she glared back at him with furious, blood red eyes.

Aro looked apologetic. "I must confess, old friend, we are not here solely on a social call. We had an urgent matter to deal with, but it appears you have beaten us to it. It seems we have traveled all this way for nothing. It is not often our job is done for us. Still, I am glad it has given us the opportunity to pay you this visit."

"As are we. Are we not, Esme?"

Esme stepped forward and slipped her arms gently and casually around Carlisle's waist, the picture of the perfect hostess. "Of course we are. Aro, it is a pleasure."

Aro bowed gracefully to Esme. "Enchanté." He looked around the clearing, appearing to all intents as if he'd only just noticed they were not alone. "My dear Carlisle, will you do me the honor of introducing me to your friends? There are several amongst your companions with whom I am not yet acquainted."

Edward's back stiffened as Aro smiled, his eyes fastened hungrily on Bella. He heard Chelsea laugh at him in her mind.

One by one, Carlisle began to introduce his family. Eleazar stepped forward at the sound of his name and bowed his head to Aro.

"Eleazar, my old friend, this is an unexpected pleasure indeed. You are most sorely missed in Volterra, my dear boy. How is it that you never find the time to pay a visit to your old friends?"

Eleazar made a noncommittal response. Aro held his hand out to him, which Eleazar accepted slowly, reluctantly, as if there was no choice. Which there wasn't.

Aro smiled a slow, artful smile. Aro's gift was similar to Edward's, but he differed from Edward dramatically in that he deeply enjoyed the power he gained over someone by taking their thoughts, their most private moments, against their will.

As Edward had expected, Aro wanted Alice, Jasper, Kate, Eleazar, and himself for the Volturi guard, though he gave no outward indication of the excitement he felt at learning of their abilities from Eleazar. Nor did he make any attempt to mask his thoughts from Edward, so sure of the outcome was he that he saw no need.

While Aro proceeded from one to the next, no one else except he and the one he addressed moved. Even the wolves remained still, taking their cue from the reaction of the vampires to the newcomers.

Aro lingered in front Rosalie, who shifted to position herself between Aro and Bree. His mind was a combination of perplexion and mocking disbelief that Rosalie would shelter one who had been created solely to destroy her, but other than that, he didn't seem interested in Bree in the least. He'd seen her talent from Eleazar and did not consider it of any value—with his guard, Aro was never unsafe. Bree would be destroyed along with rest he deemed expendable.

Upon reaching Kate, Aro took on an insincere air of deep regret. "My dear Kate. So good to see you again. I am so very glad to see you under less…. regretful circumstances. But then of course, as I have just learned from my dear friend, Eleazar, you are grieving once again. Please allow me to offer my most sincere condolences at the loss of Irina. I understand your loss, my dear, as I still mourn the loss of my own dear sister, Didyme, after all these years."

Bella noticed Aro did not reach out for Kate's hand as he had with Eleazar and some of the others. He moved from Kate to Tanya. Tanya whimpered, her whole body trembling with terror.

"My dear Tanya. But certainly you could have no need for such fear of me. That… most grievous situation… it is long over, far behind us now. I do hope you believe I do not in any way hold you accountable for Sasha's actions."

Tanya whimpered louder.

Aro continued, "It was most tragic, and I am sure you still feel your terrible loss keenly, as I am sure do your… _does_ your dear sister, and no doubt that old pain was renewed by your more recent loss. But I am equally sure you understand our laws exist for a reason. The peace we all enjoy depends upon them." The sadistic joy hidden in Aro's compassionate tone, but plain to see in his mind, made Edward seethe. He knew he was inflicting pain on Tanya, he knew there was nothing any of them could do to stop him, and he was enjoying himself immensely.

Aro's malignant, deep red eyes drifted from Tanya to Charlie. The glee was apparent in his smile. He had learned of Bella's and Charlie's abilities as shields from Eleazar, and his interest was peaked. He intrigued was by them. That interest was something that might work in their favor.

"Won't you introduce me to your… friend?" Aro continued to Tanya. "I understand congratulations are in order. And for you too, young Edward."

Aro glanced at Edward momentarily, his eyes once again drifting to Bella held tightly in Edward's arms before returning to Tanya. When she didn't respond right away, Bella noticed a member of the Volturi step forward and lower the hood of her dark grey cloak dramatically. The vampire was just a young girl. Bella didn't think she could have been older than twelve or thirteen when she'd been changed. She was very small in size, dwarfed by those around her, but nonetheless, those around her cowered away from her. That was all Bella had the opportunity to see because Edward covered her eyes and ears and pressed her face protectively against his chest. But Edward's hands over her ears did nothing to stop her from hearing Tanya's blood-curdling screams. Bella fought against Edward's arms, but they wouldn't budge.

"Tanya! What the hell are you doing to her?! Stop! Leave her alone! TANYA!"

Bella heard her father shouting. She assumed he was shouting at the one called Aro, but she couldn't see anything. Bella thought she heard a soft childlike laugh but couldn't be sure because at that same moment, Tanya's screams quieted and were replaced by equally loud shrieks of pain and fury, these coming from farther away.

In his surprise, Edward loosened his grip enough for Bella to see what was happening. The new screams cut off as suddenly as they began, and Bella saw the girl sprawled on the ground, another vampire—a boy, in a matching dark charcoal grey robe and apparently just as young as the girl—helping her to her feet. The girl looked bewildered. The boy looked worried. Both looked murderous, and both had their hate-filled eyes trained directly on her father.

Bella looked at Edward. He was looking at her father in absolute astonishment. She looked at Aro, who never spared even a glance toward the girl still staggering and leaning against the boy for support. Aro only had eyes for her father, and the way he was looking at him made her blood run cold.

Bella noticed that every single vampire who had arrived with the Volturi had moved well away from the girl, all except the boy. Bella wondered if he was her mate. Although they looked incredibly young, she knew they could well be hundreds of years old.

Edward watched Jane carefully. _That_ had certainly been a surprise. They'd known Charlie was a shield, known both Charlie and Bella were. But they hadn't known that he was not so much _blocking_ Edward as _rebounding_ him. How could they have? By rebounding his talent back at him, Edward wouldn't have noticed anything at all, he would have only heard his own thoughts. But Edward couldn't let himself think about that right now. Jane had _never_ had the tables turned on her like that before, and to have it done now—by a human and in front of the entire Volturi guard—she was incensed. Her eyes were narrowed. Her nostrils flared. Her shoulders and chest were heaving. She looked like a wild bull about to charge.

Although not one single member of the Volturi guard let anything show on their face, apart from her brother, Alec, one and all were secretly overjoyed Jane had gotten a taste of her own medicine. They'd all been the victims of her gift at one time or another.

Aside from Jane, Edward's attention was fixed on Aro. Far from caring a moment for Jane's suffering, he was so overjoyed by the prospects Charlie's potential presented to him that he was having trouble restraining himself and maintaining the façade of compassion. _Such a talent. Such a _talent_!__ Not since Jane and Alec themselves has a talent been so_ pronounced _in a human. And the girl is thought to be more powerful still. Incredible. _

Edward knew that Bella and Charlie's chances of surviving the day had just greatly increased, but he also knew there was no longer any chance that either would survive as human.

Aro made his mind up on the spot that he had to have both as members of his guard, and he would use Chelsea to bind them to him if they refused. He intended to leave here today with them. He was practically salivating with excitement at just the thought of it.

Aro's mind was engrossed with the possibilities Bella and Charlie presented. He already had a shield against physical attack, a vampire named Renata who was rarely out of arms reach of him, but with Bella and Charlie he would have shields not only able to protect him from mental attacks, but to rebound them against their origin. The idea was intoxicating to him. He played up to Tanya, apologizing both profusely and insincerely for what he called Jane's impetuousness. "I do hope you can forgive her, my dear." Aro glanced in the direction of the pack, acknowledging them for the first time. "I fear the presence of your… _pets?_… has left her slightly… excitable."

Tanya looked at Jane, her eyes blazing, before they settled on the pack. She looked away, too afraid to do anything but agree. "Of course, Aro. Accidents do happen."

Charlie looked far less willing to let the matter drop. His panic and fear for Tanya were so severe that what little Edward could make out of his thoughts was incoherent; the man was beyond words. Edward wasn't surprised—had it been his Bella writhing in agony on the ground in front of him, he would have wanted Jane's ashes.

"How very magnanimous of you, my dear. This man is, I believe, your new mate?"

Bella saw a blond vampire step forward and lower his hood. His cloak was black, like Aro's. "Aro, enough of this. The reports were true. They have clearly broken the law, not only betraying their own kind to and keeping company with... _beasts_…" The blonde vampire sneered at the pack as he spoke, his contemptuous voice dripping with sheer loathing. "…but exposing our existence to humans as well."

While he was as physically beautiful as they all were, Bella thought he looked and sounded like pure evil.

Aro spoke apologetically, walking slowly around, circling like a vulture as he addressed the crowd as one. "We cannot be too hasty, my dear brother. I do admit things do not look well, but I cannot believe such accusations of our old friend."

Edward was nearly incapable of restraining the growl threatening to explode from his chest as he glimpsed Victoria in Aro's mind, standing in front of the brothers in Volterra as she informed them of the yellow-eyed ones who had allied themselves with werewolves. Her attack on his family had been at Aro's direction.

"And I believe our friends from Denali have learned too… healthy… a respect for the law for such foolishness," Aro said in an oily voice.

He approached Carlisle. "I am deeply troubled, my old friend. What my dear brother, Caius, says is true. It grieves me deeply that this visit is not merely social. Allegations of a most alarming nature were reported to us regarding your activities, but I simply refuse to believe such slanderous stories without having them irrefutably proven true. I had truly hoped to come here and find they were nothing but malicious falsehoods, thus I must confess I am most disturbed by the… surprising and… varied… company in which I find you. I trust you have a satisfactory explanation."

Outwardly, Aro gave the impression of one who truly wanted to be given a reason he could accept. Edward was revolted by him. Every aspect of Aro's life was for appearances' sake. Edward doubted he'd ever spoken a sincere word in his life. So secure in his ability to do as he wished with his brainwashed, sycophantic guard standing behind him, ready to lay down their lives for him without a second thought, was Aro that even as he went through the empty motions of asking that the allegations against them be refuted, he informed Edward mentally that he would accept the mates of those he wanted in Volterra if necessary, but if they fought him they would be destroyed with the others.

Carlisle spoke respectfully, but his voice was proud and held no apology. "No law has been broken, Aro."

Caius laughed, his voice mocking and arrogant. He jabbed a long, thin finger in the air toward the pack. "Do you take us for fools, Carlisle? We have the evidence of our own eyes. You cannot deny what they are. Our most bitter enemy, and you have formed an alliance with them, betrayed your own kind to them."

"These are _not_ Children of the Moon, Caius, as you must be aware yourself as it is daylight and the full moon is a week away. Look at them closely, they are nothing like the true Children of the Moon. Though they think of themselves as werewolves, they are not. Shape shifters would be a more accurate term. They are supernatural beings, able to shift from one form to another at their will. That their other form is that of a wolf is pure coincidence."

Caius never faltered in his assault. With one avenue closed to him, he merely focused his attacks down another. "Whatever they are is irrelevant. Do you deny that you betrayed two of your own kind to them? That due to that betrayal one of the two was killed and his mate only just escaped with her life? How do you justify that, Carlisle?"

Carlisle remained calm, meeting each allegation with confidence. Edward was raging inside. Aro was allowing this sham to continue when their minds were already made up and had been before they'd ever arrived. He was allowing Caius to bombard his father with untrue allegations one after the other, allowing him to believe that their innocence would save them. Aro cared nothing for innocence or guilt. He cared for nothing but the acquisition of power.

Carlisle continued, "I did nothing of the sort, which Aro may see for himself if my word is not enough. We met James and Victoria while hunting. They informed us they were looking for a former coven mate of theirs to pay him a visit. That former coven mate was Laurent, who had, since leaving them, become mated to Irina. When we informed them of such, they agreed that as he was newly mated it would not be the best time for a visit, and they would call upon him and his new mate another time. Before they departed, we requested they not hunt in the area, and they gave us their word they would not."

"But you did not inform them why. You did not inform them the area was infested with… _mutants_… or what those mutants were capable of."

"They did not ask the reason for our request, and I regret to say that we took them at their word. Sadly, at that time, neither Edward nor Jasper was present with us. Had either of them been there, then we would have, of course, known their word was not to be trusted and acted accordingly. We would have explained to them more fully that it was in their best interest to leave the area quickly and unobtrusively."

There was no one in the world Edward respected more so than his adoptive father, but that respect just increased. Carlisle had chosen his words very carefully. He was not referring to Victoria and James, or at least, not solely. Carlisle had lived with the Volturi himself for a decade when he was very young and had seen firsthand their _modus operandi _more than once. His father was issuing a warning. He was stating very clearly to the Volturi that Edward and Jasper _were_ present with them now and with the talents Aro now knew they possessed, they _would_ know if the Volturi's word was not to be trusted—and they _would_ act accordingly.

Edward was astonished. He had never seen his father get mad before—but, oh, was he mad now. He gave no outward indication of it, but his mind was pulsing with rage. As, unbelievably, was Esme's. He hadn't noticed before because he was paying attention to the thoughts of the Volturi, looking for anything that might help them, but his parents were livid. Their children were being threatened, and they would respond to that threat as any parent would—by using any and all means necessary.

Edward now understood Esme's arms around Carlisle—a gesture that he had seen countless times over the years—were not just the casual show of affection he initially took them for. They were a calculated show of unity. Already Carlisle was making mental lists similar to Aro's, only his lists were which members of the guard would have to be killed, and in what order, and which might be spared if they agreed to depart in peace and never return.

Edward had lived with Carlisle and Esme for almost ninety years, but until this moment he had never fully understood either of them. Nor had he ever loved them as dearly as he did at this moment.

If Edward's astonishment was great, it was nothing to Aro's. The meaning behind Carlisle's words was not lost on him. Aro had never been threatened before, and this first time could not have come from a more unexpected source. It left him unsure of how to proceed—a first for him. He paced several feet back and forth, buying himself time to think.

Edward couldn't help it, the corners of his mouth twitched. Bella noticed this and elbowed him gently in the ribs to draw his attention. He kissed the top of her head, letting her hair mask his smile.

Aro was beginning to question their ability to win, something he had never had cause to question before. His eyes returned to Charlie before passing to Bella. He was now seeing Charlie's ability to rebound Jane's attack on Tanya in a new light, not as a weapon _he_ could use against others, but as a weapon that could be used _against him_. Charlie had rebounded Jane's gift, but what if he'd rebounded Chelsea's? Or Alec's? The Volturi, and Aro in particular, were no better than the average school yard bully. Bigger and stronger than any other coven in existence, they faced no opposition. They had reigned unchallenged for millennia because they possessed gifts no one could stand against. But now they faced something they never had before, and not only was Aro seeing that, but every member of the guard was as well. They were facing the unknown. Always before had they known exactly where they stood. Always before had they been secure in the knowledge that they unquestionably held the upper hand. Never before had anyone shaken their confidence that they, with all their gifts, were an unstoppable, unbeatable force. But now someone had.

And that someone was _human_.

Whereas before the guard was laughing to themselves at Jane's expense, now they were putting themselves in her shoes. What if, on Aro's command, they attacked only to have the humans—_humans!—_rebound their powers back at them? If Alec attempted to strip them of their senses, would they all lose their own instead? The idea was less than appealing to any of them.

But Aro was aware of something the guard was not. He was aware from what he had learned from Eleazar that Alice's visions were blind where the wolves were concerned. If Alice's gift was useless against the pack, could the Volturi's be as well? If they attacked, would their strongest weapons be ineffective against the enormous, vicious animals?

At that moment, Jacob burst through the trees and stood at Sam's right hand side. Though his teeth were not bared, the look held in his canine eyes was unmistakably murderous.

It occurred to Aro then that while the wolves in the clearing at that moment were all that existed presently, more would follow. Destroying the wolves in the clearing would not destroy the pack. More would follow. How many more? It was impossible to tell. He understood from what he'd seen in Eleazar's mind that the ability to phase into the form of a wolf ran in blood lines. But how many might descend from those blood lines was impossible to tell. Tracing known lineage would not be difficult, but a person's lineage wasn't always what they believed it to be.

A further issue was that unlike true Children of the Moon, the wolves in front of him were part of a larger community—a community of humans—and that that community itself was entwined in a still larger community. The human world was not what it once was. The sudden disappearance of not only the Cullens but of the pack and the two humans—the local Chief of Police and his teenage daughter—would draw attention. Attention that Aro could not risk being drawn.

Aro was incensed at the situation he found himself in. Edward could hear in his thoughts that he knew that for the first time ever he knew he had no choice but to retreat, as much as the very idea galled him. His outraged mind was now focused on doing so and saving face in front of the guard. Under no circumstances could he allow his absolute authority to be called into question in their eyes.

Aro turned to his brothers and spoke with such a positive, sanguine voice that no one would guess the vicious storm brewing in his mind. "I trust, my dear brothers, that you find our old friend's explanations are sufficient to acquit him of the allegations against him? Sadly, it appears that James brought his fate upon himself by his own actions."

Caius, unlike Aro, cared nothing for anything but violence, and his lust for that expected violence was being disappointed. He was both merciless and ruthless, and he could not have cared less if the entire guard was decimated. But his mate was here. Athenodora was the only being on Earth he cared for, and as badly as he wanted to see the carnage he had come here expecting, he would not risk her safety. He was forced to agree. Through clenched, razor sharp teeth, he snarled, "It would appear so."

Aro turned to Marcus. "Marcus? You have not spoken, dear brother. What is your opinion? Are our old friend and his family innocent of the charges leveled against them?"

Marcus never lifted his eyes from the ground. Against his will, Edward felt a flash of sympathy for the ancient vampire. Since his mate's death over two thousand years ago, he had shown no interest in anything or anyone, took no pleasure in anything, and spent every moment of his existence locked in an endless mournful longing for his lost mate. He was suicidal and would have taken his own life long ago were it not for Chelsea.

Edward's resentment toward her grew. He vividly remembered the agony of believing he would not arrive in time to save Bella from the bear and could not imagine being forced to endure that pain for millennia.

Bella noticed the misery the ancient vampire was trapped in as well. Of course she would; she understood his pain too, having experienced it herself when she'd believed Edward had died. She whispered to Edward softly, but he knew all present heard her. "Is he the Marcus you told me about?"

Edward nodded his head as the Volturi all fixed their eyes on her. With an amusement that was as false as everything else about him, Aro said, "Is there something you wished to say, child?"

Bella looked first to Edward, but at his shrug, she turned to Marcus. "I just wanted to say I'm very sorry about your wife."

All were silent as Marcus considered the human who not only dared address him but offered him compassion. Finally, he responded, "I thank you." Slowly, his vacant eyes returned to a spot on the ground just in front of him before he spoke again, his voice fading as he spoke until Bella could no longer hear him. "She is charming, young Edward. Cherish her."

Edward met his father's eyes before answering, "Thank you, Marcus. I intend to."

Aro repeated his question to Marcus, who Bella presumed responded, but his voice had faded away so completely that she could not tell he'd spoken at all.

Jacob reluctantly turned his massive canine head toward Bella, his mind in a state of complete turmoil, but before his eyes settled on her, he glimpsed Bree held tightly in Rosalie's arms. The instant Jacob's eyes landed on the newborn, his world changed. The center of his world, of his very universe changed. No loyalty, no relationship was immune as his universe readjusted itself to revolve around the trembling girl in Rosalie's arms. His heartache over Bella's choice of Edward over himself was erased so completely it might never have existed. Even his love and loyalty for his father, for his brothers and sister in the pack, for his tribe would be sacrificed without a second thought should the young vampire who now owned him mind, body, and soul demand it.

As Edward heard Jacob's mind, his brother wolves did as well. Their reaction was much what Edward's was—complete and utter astonishment.

Oblivious to the emotional turmoil coming from the wolves, Aro clapped his hands together in front of himself, appearing overjoyed. "Splendid. Sadly we so rarely have a happy ending. I am so very glad this is one of those rare cases. I am so very glad—"

Carlisle interrupted Aro before he could say what else he was so very glad for. "One moment please, Aro. I would like the chance to answer for _all_ the allegations leveled against us, just so there is no confusion later. There was one more, was there not?"

"I cannot imagine what you mean."

"I believe it involved Charlie and Bella, did it not?"

Aro's eyes flashed with hunger, but rather than blood lust, Aro lusted for the power their gifts represented. While he had to accept that he would not be leaving with them today, he fully expected that in time they would bore with what he perceived as simply an inconvenient phase and accept the honor a place in his guard signified. "Allowing humans to learn of our existence and live is indeed a violation of the law. But we are not the cold-hearted tyrants I fear you may now take us for, my old friend. We are not without compassion. The humans are the mates of our dear Tanya and young Edward. They must be changed, of course, which I am sure is your intention. While they should have been changed immediately, I believe we can forgive the slight delay. After all, questions would be asked at the sudden disappearance of the Chief of Police and his beautiful young daughter. Questions that could possibly prove… inconvenient. These things must be done so much more carefully in today's world than in times gone past. It was wise of you to see that and wait until they may be changed without drawing undue attention. I trust that concern was the cause of your delay, was it not Tanya, Edward?"

Tanya nodded her head vigorously, the desperate fear she'd suffered up until now turning so quickly to hope that it left her incapable of speaking.

Edward hesitated. Whatever remained of his soul was twisting in revulsion, but he knew he was left with no choice but to agree to. His greatest desire was to protect Bella, and condemning her to his fate was completely counter to protecting her. But the only alternative was unacceptable.

"Edward? Is it not your intention to change this young lady?"

Edward felt Bella's knuckles pressing against his side and heard her whisper that he was being ridiculous. Finally, he forced the words through his gritted teeth, agreeing.

Alice stepped forward with a confidence Edward couldn't feel. "Both Charlie and Bella will join us, Aro. I have seen it. It will happen."

Aro's attention turned to her. "Indeed, my dear?" He briefly angled his head toward Caius and Marcus, but his eyes never left Alice as he spoke. "Young Alice has the gift of precognition." Facing Alice once again, Aro said, "Given your brother's surprising lack of enthusiasm and apparent reservation on the matter, I fear I must request proof of what you say." Aro held his hand out to Alice. Though it was inadequate to soothe his severely wounded pride and disappointment in being forced to leave without his desired acquisitions, he was elated at the unexpected opportunity to experience Alice's gift, and he smiled at her greedily, his eyes sparkling with arrogance. "I'm sure you understand."

Alice stepped forward with her hand out, meeting his smile with a superior one of her own. "Of course."

As Aro took Alice's hand, his face filled with delight. Filled with remorse, Edward buried his face in Bella's hair as she whispered to him, "Edward, this _is_ what I want. I want to be with you, whatever that takes. Please believe that."

"Amazing! Simply _amazing_. It is as dear, sweet Alice said, my brothers. She has seen it, both humans as immortals." Aro's voice drifted from the excitement of a small child to the arrogance of a powerful man who was accustomed to getting his way without fail. "However, true as her word may have been, her gift is not without its flaws. Her visions are the results of decisions, but if those decisions are changed…. I am afraid, young Edward, I have grave concerns that you may change your mind the moment we leave and go back on your word."

Aro held his hand out to Edward, unable to keep the joy off his face at the unexpected opportunity to sample both Alice's and Edward's talents. Without raising his head, and with his eyes squeezed shut, Edward held out his hand.

"There now, dear boy. If you speak the truth, there is no need for your fears. Come now, we are both on the same side after all, we both want what is best for our kind, do we not?" Aro's eyes drifted shut in pleasure. The moment his fingers closed around Edward's hand the thoughts of everyone present flooded his mind. The sheer power of hearing the thoughts of every mind surrounding him was… utterly disappointing. What he heard from the Cullens was a chronological recital of every American president since Washington—complete with the names of every Cabinet member serving under them, recipes for a seemingly endless list of human foods, the colors of the rainbow recited in language after language, and every other inane, useless thing imaginable. From the members of his guard, he heard nothing he hadn't heard before. It was of some comfort to him that the wolves were not immune to Edward's gift as they were to Alice's, but their thoughts were discomforting. One of their number had found his mate in the newborn from Victoria's army who had been spared and been taken in by the Cullens, something which could potentially strengthen the connection between the two would-be enemies.

Filled with disappointment, Aro focused himself on Edward's personal thoughts and read through every moment of his life one by one, taking immense, sadistic pleasure in knowing the psychological pain this inevitably inflicted. But even this was disappointing; the boy had, by Aro's estimation, led a very boring life. Endless hours of unendurable boredom interrupted only by fits of self-loathing and despair. He had even refused himself the physical pleasure readily and frequently offered to him. The only brief respites from the tedium were not very entertaining to watch—his music, his family, all very dull to Aro. Only his interaction with his mate proved interesting, but Aro wasn't even able to fully enjoy that. The girl was not just any human, she was his singer. And still he resisted her blood. He truly no longer felt its call. For a vampire to be able to resist the call of their singer's blood for even a moment was unheard of, but for Edward to build a resistance to it strong enough to enable him to so comfortably spend hours in close proximity to the girl was truly inconceivable. The obvious strength of their connection and the strength of will Edward exhibited overwhelmed Aro. In all his thousands of years and the thousands of minds he'd ravaged, he had never heard of such things as Edward's mind showed him. A connection between mates strong enough to not only quell the pull of a singer's blood—but to overcome the barrier of time itself.

Before he was able to delve deeply enough into Edward's memories to see the depth of their intimacy, Aro was abruptly pushed from his mind with an ear-splitting cry of pure fury. Startled, he drew his hand back too quickly. The rash act betrayed the alarm he felt at being forcibly repelled from the much younger vampire's mind. Such a thing was unprecedented.

Edward's astonished expression told Aro he was equally as surprised, but his expression also held enormous pride as his eyes fell on the small girl at his side, gripping his arm as tightly as her frail human hands would allow and glaring at him, Aro, with more sheer loathing than anyone had ever dared express so freely before.

Before being thrown from Edward's mind, Aro had seen something else he had never seen before or had ever expected to see. He had seen a human—this human, who was staring at him so icily—this human, who was the daughter of a man whose mental shield was capable, even as a human, of rebounding Jane's attack on his mate back upon her—this human, whose own mental shield was already powerful enough to drive him from her mate's mind… this mere slip of a human had felled a vampire.

In Edward's mind, Aro had seen Victoria's last moments, heard her last thoughts, and the disbelief her mind had held as the seemingly simple human girl ended her life matched what Aro himself felt. He was equally terrified by this human child and desperate to possess the vampire she would become. Such _power_!

Unable to restrain the awe in his voice, Aro spoke, "It would appear your young mate is more than merely charming, Edward. Much, much more."

Aro was unable to pull his eyes from the murderous ones of the human girl. A thrill ran through him. He felt certain that no one capable of the level of power this child had already demonstrated could long be satisfied by the meek life she would lead under Carlisle's influence. He felt assured she would grow dissatisfied and leave on her own accord soon enough. Soon, within decades he assured himself, she would seek out the most powerful coven in existence, the Volturi. And undoubtedly, wherever the girl went, Edward would follow, as assuredly would her father. Soon, they would be his.

Yes, they would soon enough hold prominent positions in his guard, equal to Jane and Alec themselves.

"If there are no further concerns, Aro?"

Aro turned to Carlisle, smiling to himself, thinking Carlisle a fool who had no idea of the power he held at his disposal.

"There are none indeed, my dear friend. Everything has been resolved…" Aro was unable to keep his eyes from returning to Bella. "…most satisfactorily."

"I am glad to hear it. How very fortunate that your burden of enforcing the law with regard to Victoria should lead you straight to us so that we might have had this chance to clarify everything. Demetri must be an even more remarkable tracker than I believed him to be to have found them here so quickly, as they were so recently hundreds of miles to the south. It is truly most remarkable you were able to get here so quickly. One might think you had foreknowledge of her plan and were lying in wait. But of course that is impossible. Still, it is a great pity you did not arrive only a short while sooner, we might have defended the security your leadership has provided us all with together, old friend."

Aro appraised Carlisle before speaking. "A great pity, indeed. It is a great relief to me that you are all well after such an assault. It would have been a terrible tragedy if you had suffered any losses on account of our tardiness. I would have blamed myself most bitterly for not, as you said, arriving only a short while sooner."

"We were very fortunate, and I am very grateful, we had other friends to stand with us." Carlisle nodded his head, acknowledging the pack.

Aro did not turn his eyes to the pack or recognize their presence in any way. "As much as I would enjoy spending more time with you, Carlisle, I am afraid it has been a most… stressful day. Perhaps it would be best to leave a longer visit for another time. I am sure Edward and Tanya would like to get their mates out of these woods and back indoors where they might be more comfortable."

"You are most considerate, Aro."

Aro walked backwards toward the rest of the Volturi. "You must promise to come and see us in Volterra very soon, though, Carlisle. I am most anxious to see you all again when we have time to enjoy a proper visit, and I do so look forward to the opportunity to get to know your new family members better." Aro did not allow his eyes to return to Bella or Charlie that time, but Edward could see their faces in his mind, no longer human but as pale and frozen in time as all of theirs.

Slowly, one by one, the Volturi drifted back into the woods until they were finally out of sight. Only then did Edward allow his posture to relax, as did the rest of his family and the wolves, but once he did he found it difficult to remain standing, and he sagged heavily against Bella, his eyes wide with wonder. Now that the threat had passed, he could allow his mind to turn to what he had experienced when Aro had invaded his mind.

Even the heavy guilt he carried at failing to protect his beloved mate could not fully dampen his amazement at what he had seen in Aro's mind. As Aro had sifted ruthlessly through every thought that had ever passed through his mind, he'd unwittingly given Edward one of the greatest gifts he could ever receive. And Edward knew Aro never suspected a thing. He'd been so focused on what _he_ deemed important, he hadn't concerned himself that Edward was trying to push certain thoughts to the forefront of his mind. Aro was so accustomed to people futily attempting to shield certain thoughts by concentrating on other unimportant, mundane ones that it never occurred to him that those seemingly irrelevant memories could hold the importance they did to Edward. It was just an idea he'd always had in the back of his mind, that if ever the day came that he was forced to allow himself to be subjected to Aro's gift, he might at least try to get something out of it. But he'd never truly expected it to work.

But it had. _It had_.

His sole conscious thought from the moment she'd first stepped into the clearing while he was fighting Victoria had been Bella and her safety, but this idea had been in the back of his head for so very long that when the time came, he acted on it without conscious thought. Edward had focused on the dark spot in this mind, the empty spot where his human memories should have been and thrust it forward.

And it had _worked_.

"Edward, what is it? What's wrong?"

Bella's fingers trailed up and down his arm. Edward saw himself in the minds of all his family and even the wolves. His family's main focus was on their mates, the wolves' was collectively on Leah's injuries and the fact that the next in line to be Alpha had just imprinted on a vampire, but one by one all were turning to him. It was no surprise. Edward could see himself through their eyes, and he truly looked like quite the sight. Wide eyed, slack jawed… if possible even paler than normal.

Bella repeated her question and added, "Are they coming back?"

He couldn't keep from smiling in spite of the anxiety in his mate's voice and his family's and the pack's minds. Awe struck, as if he was seeing her for the first time, his eyes traveled over Bella's face. He watched his fingers trace along her jaw, toward her temple. Her eyes fell shut and his fingers traveled gently over her closed lids, her eye lashes tickling him. He could feel her warm breath on his inner forearm. He let the long strands of her chestnut hair slide over his hand and through his fingers. He trailed the back of his hand down her neck, feeling her pulse ring throughout his body.

This angel…. this miracle had been granted to him…. to _him_. Who was he to question a miracle?

He laughed in sheer wonder as he spoke. "Oh, no. Not anytime soon. You and Charlie sent them packing with their tail between their legs." Edward looked at the pack and continued to laugh, "So to speak."

He turned serious, but the smile only faded from his face for a moment. "But Aro was very serious, Carlisle. He expects to be informed soon of… the new additions to our family."

Carlisle looked at Sam. Sam held his gaze for several long seconds before turning to Charlie. "This is what you truly want?"

Charlie's voice was confident. It was the voice of a man who had long known what he wanted and held no reservations. "Yes."

"And for Bella?"

"I'm standing right here, Sam. And, yes. It's what I want."

Bella's eyes were all for Edward; she couldn't look away from the goofy smile on his face. She'd never seen him this… light… this apparently carefree before. There was more than relief that the threat had passed in his eyes.

Sam sighed deeply and looked at the pack, all eyes lifted to his. He sighed again before nodding his head. "If it what you both wish, we will not stand in your way."

Several breaths were exhaled with relief; Edward was surprised that one of them was his own. He felt so in the clouds, he hadn't thought anything could reach him right now. Edward felt Bella press her face against his arm and smile. Her voice was muffled as she spoke nuzzling her face against him happily, "I know there's something. You're smiling like you're drunk."

He wrapped her in his arms. She looked up at him, the side of her face pressed over his heart. "That was quite the impressive feat, my love. You about knocked Aro out of his shoes when you knocked him out of my mind."

Bella's smile faded and her eyes hardened for the briefest moment as the memory of Aro invading, violating her mate's mind returned to her. "I just… I just… saw red, I guess. I just… I guess I had an adrenaline rush. I just… I couldn't let him… The thought of _him_… seeing…. I had to stop him."

Edward understood what she was trying to say without saying in front of everyone and held her tighter. She hadn't wanted Aro to see their private moments, so she'd stopped him. He didn't think he'd ever forget the sound of her voice reverberating "NO!" through his mind.

Actually, he knew he wouldn't. That was one memory he'd be very glad to have forever.

"Edward, please tell me what's wrong."

"Absolutely nothing is wrong, love."

"Edward—"

He held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing is _wrong_…."

"Then what isn't _wrong_?"

"When Aro touches someone, he can see every thought they've ever had."

"Yes, I know. Carlisle said."

"_Every _thought they've _ever_ had." Edward started to laugh again and scooped her into his arms, spinning her around.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked him, grinning.

"I was just remembering getting the shock of my life—well up until that point of my life at least. It was the oddest thing, really quite inexplicable. A letter I had written to my cousin, Mic, and placed in a hidden compartment in my desk—a hidden compartment, mind you, that no one outside of my family knew about_—_had gone missing only to be replaced by another written by some girl I had never met or even heard of, who had not only taken my letter but had had the arrogance and hypocrisy to criticize it. As I said, it was quite inexplicable, and it was quite the shock."

Bella's eyes widened slowly as he spoke until they looked as if they might just pop out of her head completely. Even slower, her mouth silently formed the words. "You remember?"

"Everything, love. I remember everything."

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Sigh, all that's left now is the epilogue. I can't believe just one more chapter and it's over!

So, am I forgiven for taking Edward's memories now that I gave them back?

The part that I had originally wanted to include but then decided to forget about but then decided to include was Jacob imprinting on Bree. She got such a raw deal in canon I wanted her to have a happy ending twice over-a family and a mate. I know the general feeling behind imprinting is reproduction, but I'm looking at it as not just continuing the line, but strengthening it. Leah is infertile while she's actively phasing, but I really think that once she stops, her cycle would kick back up. I think it makes perfect sense that she not be able to get pregnant while she's actively phasing-phasing while pregnant would be disastrous for the baby, I would think. Introducing a new line of DNA into a very limited gene pool-the tribe is very small-would have to strengthen the pack. And for Jake and Bree, she can't reproduce, but as the newest member of the Cullen family, Jacob imprinting with her would strengthen the bond between the Cullens and the pack, as it would essentially give them common members. Strengthening a connection to an ally would unquestionably strengthen the pack. Does that make sense?

And how about Team Human! Do Bella and Charlie rock or what!?

So, there is only the epilogue left, but I'm still playing around with it. I'm expanding one scene considerable, and I'm adding a new one, so it might be a little while. Not too very long, neither scene is all that long, but next Saturday isn't going to happen. Once I get it sorted out and sent to my betas, I'll post a teaser on Fictionators – Teaser Mondays, Twi Fic Central – Wednesdays, Twi & VD Fic Recs – Tuesday, and Twilight Fic Zone – Sunday. I will also try to visit the Sneak Peek campfire on A Different Forest on Monday night, but that seems to be one of the nights that my grandson visits, so… no promises. It's the same teaser regardless of which site you see it on.

Drop me a review and let me know what you thought of it!


	50. Chapter 50

"_Anyone who thinks money can't buy happiness has obviously never read a really good book."_

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I am so sorry this last chapter took so long. I had more trouble getting this chapter right than I had with the entire 49 chapter up to this point. I had hoped to have had it up well before now (like, _weeks_ before now!) but I just couldn't get it how I wanted it. Always helpful, I particularly have to thank my wonderful PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus, for all their help reviewing and offering comments, suggestions, and help with rewording not only once but multiple times on this chapter. I hope you'll all be happy with the result and think it was worth the wait!

I'm sorry I wasn't able to respond to reviews for the last chapter. This chapter (finally!) being done is a huge weight off my shoulders, so hopefully, now I'll be able to have some time to respond to reviews.

Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

And now, on with the grand finale!

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Two weeks later….

"Stop fidgeting."

"I'm not fidgeting," Bella sighed, fidgeting.

"Right." Exasperated, Alice stood next to Bella and Charlie at the back of the small wedding chapel Bella and Edward had chosen, waiting for just the right moment.

Bella continued to fidget, and Charlie smiled indulgently and patted her hand where it rested on his arm, his gold wedding ring reflecting the soft ambient lighting in a warm glow. His daughter was as nervous as any other bride on her wedding day—or in her case, the middle of the night.

"Isn't it time _yet_?" Bella asked for the eleventh time.

"Actually, it's past time. We're late, and they've gone ahead and started without you." Alice teased, trying to calm her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Rosalie as a bride was easy compared to Bella.

Bella fought back a spasm of pain as a memory of her mother flashed through her mind. She remembered saying something very like that to her mother before her wedding when she was worried they were running late.

_What are they going to do? Start without you_?

Swallowing hard, Bella refused to let anything ruin this night. She had begun coming to terms with her mother's death. She'd only had seventeen years with her mother, but they had been better years than many girls ever had with their mothers, even if they lived to be ninety. And her mother was here with her tonight. She could feel her. "Very funny, Alice."

"Relax. It was your idea to have the minister pronounce you man and wife right at midnight after all."

"I know, I know… I just…. Isn't it time _yet_? We've been waiting here for an hour."

"We've been waiting here less than ten minutes, Bella."

Bella muttered under her breath, "Well, it feels like an hour."

Alice and Charlie laughed at her.

Finally, Alice smiled. "It's time."

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_It's time_. Edward heard the words in his sister's mind a fraction of a second before she spoke them. His knees nearly buckled underneath him. He could hear his family laughing at him, but he didn't care. The only thought in his head was that any second now his beautiful mate was going to walk down the aisle toward him on her father's arm.

Often, something would cause his recently recovered memories of his human life to jump to the forefront of his mind. A lifetime of memories and experiences recovered in seconds was overwhelming, even to his vampire mind. A word, a phrase, a sound, a smell…. For the past couple weeks, almost anything could suddenly throw him back almost one hundred years to some previously forgotten moment. It didn't take much. Right now, Edward was thrown back to all the times when, as a human, he'd sat morosely as the thought that one day Bella would walk down the aisle on her father's arm had preyed upon him, because then it had seemed impossible that the one she walked to would be him.

It had been Bella's wish that she could relieve his mother's mind and tell her that the war would be over long before her son could enlist to fight in it that had been the catalyst of their incredible journey together. Now, Edward wished he could let the hopelessly in love young man he had once been know that the journey they had just begun would, in time, lead to this moment. Edward smiled to himself. Really, he thought, he should have already known then that the word 'impossible' simply didn't apply to them.

Over the chapel's sound system, the music he had composed for just this moment as a wedding gift for his bride started to play as the doors opened, and his sister stepped into the chapel.

The melody started off simply; two distinctly separate sets of chords—one deeper and the other higher—blending together and building to a crescendo that would peak the moment Bella appeared at the end of the aisle, before mellowing to the most achingly beautiful composition he had ever created as she walked to him. He had tried to capture every emotion Bella had ever inspired in him from the moment he'd first seen her handwriting to the moment she'd agreed to become his wife in this single piece of music. No composition could ever truly do justice to how deeply he loved her, but he'd tried to come as close as possible. It was a piece that he knew would never truly be finished. It was, in its current form, the result of hour after hour of work, but it was a work in progress. It was a piece that would continue to evolve, to grow and reflect their never-ending bond strengthening as they walked through the rest of their lives together.

The music flowed as Alice walked down the aisle slowly, her timing perfect so that just as the music reached its height, his Bella would appear in the doorway seventeen feet and five inches away from him.

Alice had designed Bella's wedding gown personally, and the two of them were the only ones who had seen it. Alice had been very careful to keep her mind blank so that his first glimpse of his mate as his bride would be as she stepped into his sight, and Edward's breath caught in his throat the moment he saw her. Bella's dress was the perfect blending of 1918 and 2010. It was soft white silk with a short train and had the long sleeves and high neckline of delicate lace—the fashion of the early 20th century—paired with the fitted bodice of today. Her cathedral-length veil was of matching lace with a simple crown of small white flowers and a sheer blusher veil covering her face.

Somehow, Edward managed to resist running down the aisle to her, and she smiled at him as if she'd read the thought in his mind.

Alice was grumbling to herself as Bella arched her eyebrow at him and lifted the hem of her dress off the floor, just enough to show off her shoes. Mismatched flip flops—the right green, the left purple—the one item of her wedding attire that, in her irritation at Bella's insistence, Alice had been unable to hide from him.

He smiled widely and rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. The light that shone from his Bella's eyes and her smile as she took in the matching, or rather mismatching, flip flops he wore on his own feet eclipsed the Las Vegas Strip itself.

The minister was cynical. Edward could hear him mentally sighing with boredom and in true Las Vegas fashion, laying odds in his mind whether they would still be married by this date next year. Based on the man's experience, the odds he gave them of reaching their first anniversary were not good.

When Bella finally reached the end of the aisle—those seventeen feet and five inches had seemed interminably long to him—Edward gave in to his need to touch her. He lifted the blusher veil, gently cradled her face in his hands, and kissed her.

The minister hid his irritation with an amused chuckle. "Now, now, son. You're supposed to wait until I say, 'You may now kiss your bride.'"

Never taking his eyes from his bride, Edward apologized as their family laughed. "Sorry, Reverend, but you have no idea how long I've waited for this."

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"And now, Mrs. Cullen—"

Bella smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. She shook her head and corrected him. "_Masen_-Cullen." Reaching up to kiss him, she laughed. "Really, Edward, I don't know how this marriage will ever work if you can't even get my name right."

Edward's eyes drifted shut for a moment before opening again, filled with absolute adoration and looking down on his wife. His _wife_…. "_Married_. We're really _married_." He spoke the words with the incredulous wonder of a dying man given a second chance to live—which was exactly what he was—and Bella was unable to look away from his face. While speaking those words Edward's face held so much pure joy, it held her spellbound.

She took several long seconds just looking at him, memorizing every detail of this moment: from the indescribable look in his eyes, to the way his body leaned slightly forward toward hers—as if pulled toward her by gravity—to his slightly parted lips and his sweet, cool breath against her skin as he closed the distance between them and claimed her lips in a mind blowing kiss that left her breathless.

If he didn't open that damn door soon, she wouldn't be responsible for what she just might do to him right there in the hallway, but speaking would require taking her lips from his, and she didn't think she could do that, even for just a moment.

Finally, the need to inhale forced her to pull away from him; she only managed to say the word "door" before her lips were on his again. Briefly, as Edward slid the key card in the slot on the door, she thought to herself that that would be another advantage to being changed—not needing to breathe. Then she was in his arms as he carried her over the threshold of their suite. It was a silly tradition, she knew, but she giggled anyway. Once in their suite, Edward kicked the door shut.

This was where Bella had dressed before the ceremony. A small hallway led to the bedroom, beyond which lay the sunken living room featuring a phenomenal view of the strip—which Alice had teasingly said she should appreciate while she had the chance, because after the ceremony she doubted either of them would even notice it.

The suite was luxuriously decorated in shades of cream, dark grey, and muted gold with rich, warm wood accent pieces. It was theirs for a whole week, and she had no intention of leaving it for any reason during that week. She hadn't even seen any reason to leave the king-sized bed for more than the few human moments she would need—until she saw the bathroom with its Roman tub and enormous, multi-jetted shower, her mind instantly making plans for both.

Edward kneeled on the bed and laid her down carefully in the center. There had been a few additions to the room since she'd left it. The bed was covered with red rose petals and a serving tray made of wood so dark it was nearly black lay to her side with a bucket of iced champagne, chocolate covered strawberries—one of her absolute favorite things in the world—two crystal glasses, candles, and a single long stemmed red rose.

"Champagne? I'm surprised at you, Edward. Corrupting a minor with alcohol." She picked up the rose, inhaling it's fragrant aroma, as Edward chose a strawberry to feed to her.

"Thanks to Jasper, as far as the hotel is concerned, we are both twenty-one. And it's not alcohol I intend to corrupt you with, Mrs. Masen-Cullen."

Bella's eyes drifted shut with delight. The sweet, ripe strawberry with the rich dark chocolate was pure heaven. "I wish you could taste how amazing they are," she sighed.

Edward didn't reply, he just smiled at her as he poured her a glass of champagne and chose another strawberry, dipping it into the glass. "They're supposed to be better with the champagne," he explained.

As she bit into the berry, a small drop of juice ran down Edward's finger. Bella took his finger in her mouth and ran her tongue along the digit, looking up at him through her lashes. "They're better with you."

Edward pushed the tray aside and set the bottle and glass on the nightstand next to the bed. He laid his body on top of her. "I love you so much."

Bella slid his suit coat off and ran her hands over every inch of her husband she could reach. "I love you, too." Pulling his tie off and unbuttoning the first six buttons on his shirt before pulling it free from the waistband of his slacks, her hands rediscovered his chest before she slid from underneath him and turned her back to him. Looking back at him over her shoulder, she smiled seductively at him. "Unbutton me?"

Edward's deft fingers made short work of the buttons down the back of her dress, but before he could slide it down her arms, she stood and playfully scolded him, teasing him as she stepped into the bathroom. "Ah, ah, ah. You are to wait right here and not move."

In the bathroom, Bella exhaled and tried to steady her nerves. Slipping her dress off, she carefully hung it on the padded hanger Alice had left for her on the back of the door. Next to it hung her bridal peignoir, a simple but beautiful sheer white silk negligee with thin straps and a deep V neckline. The bust area was of delicate lace adorned with tiny pearls appliquéd atop the silk. It hung long and flowing from the high empire waist to just skim the floor. It was soft and delicate and feminine and absolutely beautiful and had been a special gift from Tanya that Bella knew both she and Alice had worked hard to keep shielded from Edward.

The other item Bella had left in the bathroom was a box of condoms. She'd asked that they at least try, and Edward had relented, though she knew he still had reservations. One of which was his venom—which was where the condoms came in, though his venom would dissolve them in minutes. His other worry wasn't as easily dealt with. Edward was terrified he would hurt her, that he would be unable to control himself, and he had been absolutely adamant that all he could promise her was that they would try.

She slipped the delicate negligee over her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror, feeling more nervous than she had expected she would. _This is silly_, she told herself. It was silly to be so nervous. It wasn't like Edward had never seen her naked before, but standing in front of the full-length mirror in this beautiful peignoir, she felt inadequate. She couldn't see herself as beautiful. She was too thin, too pale… just too plain. She knew that Edward's only reluctance was for her safety; she knew he wanted this as badly as she did. If not even more so after having waited for it, _for her_, for so long. What if she disappointed him? How could she possibly live up to his expectations after having waited so long?

Maybe she'd been wrong to ask him for this now. Maybe he'd been right, and they should wait until after her change. He wouldn't have to worry about anything then. Didn't she owe him that much? That when they made love, he could surrender himself fully? He'd waited almost one hundred years for her, why hadn't she been willing to wait for him for even just a few short months? To wait just a little while longer so that when they came together as one he would have no fears for her safety? To wait until he could claim her as his without having to be constantly on his guard, constantly holding himself in check, holding himself back.

She must have spent more time in the bathroom agonizing than she realized, because Edward knocked on the door and asked hesitantly if she was alright. Bella took a deep breath before answering that she was fine and then took several more. She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head at herself. _You're being stupid. He waited all that time because he didn't _want _anyone else, even when he didn't know it _he only wanted you_. Now, he's waiting for you, so get your butt out there. If he says it's too much, don't push him. Just let it happen or not happen and just get your butt out there._

Forcing her nerves away, Bella straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

Edward had been about to knock again, and his hand froze in the act. His eyes widened, and his jaw fell, his hand still raised, poised to knock, forgotten. His golden eyes raked over her slowly from head to toe and back up. His hand fell limply to his side. He closed his mouth, and Bella could hear his teeth snap against each other. He licked his lips, his voice was breathy, restrained. "That's… new."

Pleased at his reaction and laughing at herself for having been so anxious, Bella bit her bottom lip, smiling up at him. As they locked on her white teeth, worrying the pink flesh, his eyes widened further before the lids drooped heavily. With all her doubts instantly erased by his love and lust-filled gaze, Bella spun around playfully, teasingly, and she looked up at him, her own eyes filled with the thrill of knowing how she was affecting him and being equally affected by him herself. "Do you like it?"

Edward's voice shook with restraint. "It's very nice."

Bella set the box of condoms on the nightstand next to the bed, and the desire in Edward's eyes was instantly replaced with all the anxiety she herself had felt only a minute ago. She wrapped her arms around him. "I was wrong to push you, Edward. If you say we wait, we'll wait and I won't mention it again. I'm sorry. I want our first time to be perfect for you, and it won't be if you're worried the whole time."

Bella felt Edward's body shake slightly as he chuckled to himself before he picked her up and tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed, sending rose petals flying everywhere.

Startled, Bella shrieked.

Edward stood looking down at his mate, his wife, his Bella. Her eyes were wide with surprise and desire, her breathing heavy, her chest heaving. He growled possessively and pounced on her. Poised carefully over her, he buried his face in her neck, his lips and tongue claiming her skin. "And if I don't want to wait?"

"Oh, God…." Bella arched against him, her hands frantically trying to remove his shirt. When she couldn't control her fingers well enough to push the last two buttons through the holes, she grabbed the cotton in her hands and ripped.

Edward knelt over her, his shirt half off. They were both panting. "You didn't answer my question. What if I don't want to wait?"

Bella grabbed his torn shirt to pull him back down, but he didn't budge.

"I'm serious, Bella. I don't want to wait anymore, but I need to know if you do. If you've changed your mind—"

Bella cut him off with a kiss. Unable to pull him down to her, she'd pushed herself up to him on one arm and twisted her other hand into his hair. She answered him against his lips as she kissed him. "I want you."

Edward gently pushed her back down against the pillows, his fingers playing with the strap of her negligee. "This really is beautiful, but not nearly so beautiful as what it's concealing."

As he carefully slid the straps from her shoulders, Bella shifted, allowing him to slide it down her body. He pressed his face against her abdomen as he tossed the nightgown aside and slid her white lace panties down her legs. Once she was naked beneath him, his eyes drank her in, his gaze reverent. "You are exquisite."

Bella dragged him to her by his shirt and kissed him. He removed his shirt as her hands went to the button on his pants. Naked, they lay together, taking their time, unhurried hands roaming everywhere they could reach, legs twisting together, promises of love and forever spoken between heated kisses.

Their eyes met, and Bella pressed her forehead against his. _I love you, Edward._

As he heard her thoughts for a second time, Edward's face lit up with the smile that was hers and hers alone. "I love you, too."

Since the first time Edward had heard Bella's thoughts—the morning she'd agreed to marry him—they had tried again, but they had never managed it again until now. Perhaps it would one day be something they could manage at will, but for now, it was sporadic. _Possibly needing the proper motivation_, Edward mused.

Edward lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, his hand tracing the dark strands of her hair fanned out on the pillow. He covered her face with kisses that slowly moved down her throat, her pulse pounding against his lips, echoing throughout him. Moving slowly, carefully, his hand caressed her breasts. He could feel her heart beating madly against his fingertips as she arched into his touch. The feel of her pulse, the scent of her warm blood, the sound of her heartbeat… all constant reminders of how very fragile his Bella was—as if he needed reminding.

His lips and tongue followed the path of his hand as it slid down her body. The sounds she made were driving him wild with desire, and even as her heart beat, some small, traitorous, selfish part of his mind impatiently relished the day he could give in to the desire she brought out in him without restraint.

As his hand reached its goal, she gasped and cried out.

Edward's mouth moved along her breast, his tongue circling her nipple, causing her to moan again. She buried her hand in his hair, her nails dragging along his scalp. That traitorous part of his mind was gaining strength, reminding him that one day he wouldn't need to be careful, that one day he could suck the pink skin into his mouth, could take it between his teeth.

Edward held his breath as Bella turned her head, pressing her forehead against his forearm, breathing hard. His bride's already pounding heart beat faster as he gently stroked her. Her hips thrust against his fingers, encouraging the pleasure growing inside her. His body tensed, nearly shaking from the force of his restraint, Edward moved his hand lower. His thumb replaced his fingers without missing a beat as his finger slowly and carefully entered her.

His thumb stroking her, his finger sliding inside her, the scent of her arousal washing over him, Edward growled possessively. Holding onto his control, he added a second finger, and soon he felt her body begin to tighten. Moments later, her body writhing, her hands behind her head gripping the edge of the mattress and her back arching, his Bella cried out his name as the pleasure inside her reached its peak and crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Breathing heavy, her face tinged a beautiful pink, his bride gazed up at him, her chocolate brown eyes filled with her love for him as her heartbeat began to slowly return to normal. Treasuring every beat, Edward lowered his face to her, cheek-to-cheek, feeling her warm skin against his. "No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you."

He felt her cheek lift as she smiled, whispering into his ear, "With one exception."

Silently, they lay side by side, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, until Bella gently pushed her hips up against him and nodded her head, wordlessly telling him she was ready.

Hesitantly, Edward moved to settle himself kneeling between her legs. Pushing herself up on one arm, she stroked his hip with her other hand, her eyes looking deeply and lovingly into his before she reached over to the nightstand and picked up the small box, grateful her hand didn't shake as she took a packet out and ripped it open. Edward made a sound that was half groan, half sigh as her fingers touched him. Neither spoke as she rolled the condom onto him. Trying to hide her nervousness, she smiled at him as she lay back against the pillows. "Right, so… now, I just… lie back and let you do all the work. Hardly seems fair. Next time, we can switch, and you can lay back and let me do the work."

Edward moaned. His erection twitched as she traced her fingers along its length, and his hips bucked forward. He wanted this so badly. He ached for her. But there was no escaping the fact that their first coupling was going to be painful for Bella. "If it hurts too much—"

"Just go slowly. I'll be fine. I want this. I want you… so much."

Folding her arms behind her head, Bella ran her foot along the back of his calf, and with extreme caution, Edward positioned himself, his erection pressing intimately against his mate. He took a deep breath and slowly slid into her.

The feeling of his wife's body accepting him, welcoming him, was like being consumed by a fire that healed rather than destroyed as it burned. His breath escaping him in a rush, Edward inhaled and exhaled rapidly. The pleasure coursing through him was beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

Cautiously, he pushed himself further into his wife, careful to watch for any sign of pain. Though his Bella's eyes remained locked on his, he could hear her breath catch and shudder. She winced, and he forced himself to stop until she nodded her head, saying, "It's OK. I'm OK."

Moving slower still, Edward eased himself inside her. Her body was so tight around him, he worried that while he was feeling the most perfect sense of completion and pleasure beyond description, his beloved was hurting. She bit her bottom lip, the skin turning white where it was held between her teeth. She closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath, but when she opened them only a moment later, they were clear and gazing directly into his.

Once fully sheathed inside her, Edward's eyes drifted shut. The pleasure that consumed him was so complete, he knew he wouldn't last long. Never could he describe how he felt at that moment—there simply weren't words.

Combined with the physical pleasure of being joined as one with his mate, the feeling of absolute completion and unconditional love and acceptance caused a phantom throbbing in his chest, as if his body was reminding him of the heart that still lay within him. Although it had fallen silent so long ago, it was still there, and this beautiful girl had brought it back to life.

When he opened his eyes, he could see all the love he felt for his Bella reflected back at him in her eyes. That his wonderful girl loved him would never cease to amaze him. His throat burned, but it was not the burn he'd lived with since awaking to this life. He swallowed several times, but the burning remained. His eyes stung, and he knew if his body could produce tears, they would be brimming from his eyes at that moment. Overwhelmed by how much he loved the girl beneath him and knowing he needed to proceed slowly, to give her time to adjust to having him inside her, Edward lowered himself to her, supporting his weight on his elbows, and bowed his head, his forehead resting on her shoulder, breathing deeply, filling himself with her scent.

Bella's arms wrapped around him, her hands trailing up and down his back. She pressed a kiss into his hair, whispering, "Are you OK?"

Edward's lips twitched, and he smiled against her skin. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I've never been better." As part of her answer, she wrapped her legs around him, her hands caressing his back. "So, are you planning on just laying on top of me all night, or are you going to move?"

In answer, Edward raised his body, pulling out of her and carefully pushing back in, shaking with restraint. "Am I hurting you?" he asked, anxiously. Bella's face didn't betray any pain, but he needed to be certain. As he forced himself to remain still, his body was trembling with his need to claim his bride, to give himself to her.

"It… doesn't hurt… exactly. It burns, and there's a lot of pressure. It'll get better soon. It already is." She smiled at him reassuringly. "I think your fingers helped."

Still watching for any sign of pain, Edward slowly pulled out for a second time, sliding back in carefully. He moaned at the sensation of making love to his wife for the first time. She lowered her legs, bending them at the knee, her feet flat on the bed on either side of him as he pushed into her over and over again, each time daring to move just a little faster, push just a little harder, until he built a steady rhythm.

Her heart rate was increasing again; her breathing deepened, and her face relaxed as her body grew accustomed to his.

Although he knew that bringing his Bella to a second orgasm through intercourse on their first time would likely not happen, Edward wanted to at least make it feel good for her.

Just as cautiously as he entered her for the first time, Edward slid his arm under her, his hand cupping her butt. "Trust me," he said, raising her bottom a couple inches off the bed and changing the angle of his thrusts.

Different positions he wanted to try with her flooded his mind. He wanted to take her standing up, her legs wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to take her in the shower, hot water pouring over the both of them. God help him—he wanted to take her from behind. He wanted to lie behind her, his body pressed against her from her head to her feet, and slide into her from behind. He wanted her on top of him.

In this position, with her hips raised off the bed, he knew he'd be hitting the spot inside her that would bring her the most pleasure. "Touch yourself. Let me watch you touch yourself." His voice trembled as he spoke, remembering the way she'd driven him nearly out of his mind on the night of their private prom.

Her head pillowed on her left arm, Bella looked directly into Edward's eyes as she stroked herself in time with his thrusts with her right hand. He registered the surprise in her eyes as what had begun as painful—even if only slightly—turned much more pleasurable. "Oh," she breathed out on a sigh.

Edward could feel his orgasm approaching. As perfect as all the times his Bella had used her hand or her mouth on him had been, this was so much better, so much more intense. His entire body felt truly alive, joined as he was to his Bella. He felt lightheaded with ecstasy. Every one of his senses was supercharged, and he could feel every thrust throughout his entire body from his fingers to his toes.

Mesmerized, watching himself enter her body over and over, his muscles tightened, and his toes curled as the pleasure that had been thrumming through him exploded in the most intense release. The euphoria that coursed through him left him feeling boneless, and he lowered himself to his mate.

Bella's arms held him tenderly; her lips kissed the side of his face lovingly. Rolling to the side, Edward pulled her against him, gazing at her in adoration as Bella traced her fingers along his brow and down the side of his face to his jaw and finally his lips, a look of pure contentment on her face.

Edward took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. "I thought I had prepared myself for this, thought I knew what to expect, but nothing I imagined was anywhere close to the perfection of tonight. I truly am the luckiest man in the world. Thank you. Thank you for loving me, for trusting me, for accepting me—"

"For stealing your letter to your cousin and being crazy enough to write to a boy living almost a hundred years earlier."

Edward laughed and laid his head against her shoulder. "Yes, thank you for that, too."

Bella ran her foot up the side of his leg. "Just think, we'll have an eternity of this." Grinning, she added, "You know, that bathroom has an awfully big bathtub."

"And that shower has an awful lot of jets."

"Shower tomorrow. Bath tonight."

Edward lifted his bride from the bed and carried her into bathroom. "A bath does sound nice."

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That September…

Dozens of people were gathered at the Swan home. What had started as only a handful of people had grown rapidly as word spread. The police and fire departments were there. Reverend Weber was there, as was the priest from St. Anne's, the catholic church near the hospital. Practically the entire senior class was already there, and the rest were on their way. Several of Charlie's friends from the reservation were there as well. It seemed to Mike Newton that at least half of Forks itself was there, but people just kept coming.

Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, Alice, and Jasper were alone in the kitchen of the small house, looking utterly grief stricken. The town believed Rosalie and Emmett to be away at school out east somewhere, but Mike knew they were in actuality in Alaska, waiting. He held Leah close to him; their eyes fixed on the other. Finally, he closed his eyes. He'd known this would be hard, but he hadn't appreciated just how hard. For months, Jessica had hardly spoken two words to him, but the moment she'd arrived, she'd run straight to him, crying what he knew to be genuine tears. All around him kids he'd known for years stood dazed and confused. It was inconceivable to them that people they knew, kids their own age, could possibly be gone, could go out in the morning and just never come back. It didn't fit in with their idea of How Things Were that two of their classmates could leave school on Friday and not come back on Monday.

Some were crying openly, some holding hands and praying quietly, some sitting and staring straight ahead in disbelief or denial.

It was too much. He couldn't be around them right now; it was just too much, too difficult to pretend, and he and Leah sat huddled with her pack brothers and their mates.

The official story was that the Swans and Edward Cullen had gone on a day trip to Pillar Point to go boating and shell fishing. They'd gone out that morning in a small boat but hadn't been seen or heard from since. That was fourteen hours ago now, and the sky had long since grown dark.

There was no sign of the boat, and there was no response from them over their radio. The Coast Guard had begun a search; helicopters were brought in to assist.

But the search would be in vain. No trace of the boat or the "victims" would ever be found. The boat was at the bottom of the ocean several miles out by now. Bella and her father were—

Mike shivered—Bella and her father were on their way to Alaska with Edward and Tanya. Their days as human beings were numbered in the single digits. He'd been trying to prepare himself for this for weeks, ever since he'd been told of what had happened and what would happen.

The sight of Leah lying on a bed in the Cullens' house, broken and in pain, would never leave him. It still haunted him and always would. He'd known the truth already—the truth about the girl he'd fallen so quickly and so completely in love with, the truth about the Cullens—but until that moment, until he'd seen her lying there covered with only a sheet, severely injured and in obvious pain as the morphine dripped into her body through the I.V. needle in her arm, he hadn't _really_ _gotten_ it. The world wasn't what he'd always thought it was. Humans weren't quite so high up in the food chain as he'd always thought they were. Kids he'd gone to school with for two years were in reality over one hundred years old. He'd studied the Civil War, but one of his classmates had actually _fought_ in it. He'd seen the movie Titanic, but another of his classmates had been supposed to _sail_ on it. When the Cullens had cut class because the sun was out… when they'd skipped the bio class last year when they did blood typing… it was because they'd _had_ to.

Werewolves and vampires weren't myths; they were real and they'd all been unknowingly living amongst them for years.

Mike didn't think he'd ever be able to forget Leah, surrounded by her mother and the tribal elders, telling him what she was. He hadn't believed her. How could he have? But when she'd led him outside and he'd been confronted with a pack of wolves the size of Clydesdales…. He hadn't been able to deny what was right in front of him, not after his heart started beating again anyway, but he still hadn't truly _gotten_ it. Not until he'd seen her so badly injured and surrounded so protectively by her pack brothers had he truly understood what she'd told him that day. He hadn't taken in the enormity of it, he supposed, because he simply hadn't been capable of doing so. His mind hadn't been able to fully accept what hadn't even been real only an hour earlier.

But the threat was real; the wolves existed for a reason. Leah had been injured… she could have been killed… doing what she and her brothers were born to do. Protect defenseless humans—defenseless humans like himself—from… those like the Cullens who… _weren't_ like the Cullens. The girl he loved so very much could have been killed fighting to protect _him_, and he'd had no idea.

Mike felt sick thinking how close he'd come to losing her. He saw Clinton Penn sitting a few feet away, surrounded by the rest of the pack. If he hadn't gotten there when he had… if he'd been only a few seconds later…. Tanya and Edward had already been fighting others, he'd been told. If Clinton hadn't gotten there when he had, his Leah would have been killed. He would have lost her without ever even knowing she was in any danger. He'd made her swear to him never to keep anything from him again.

So, now he sat here, one of the few people who knew the truth, knowing that the official story was a lie, knowing it was a cover, knowing the people they were crying and praying for were on their way to Alaska to end one life and begin another.

Leah nudged him in the ribs. "You OK?" He nodded and tightened his grip on her.

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Weeks later, the exhaustive search was officially called off. Mike knew it had stopped being a search and rescue mission and had become a recovery effort at some point, although the change was never publicly acknowledged, but now it was being called off, and Bella, her father, Tanya, and Edward were presumed lost. A small, core group of their friends from school had gathered at the Swan house to help close it up. The police officers and their wives were there as well.

When Mike had arrived, one of the wives was emptying the dishwasher. The refrigerator had already been emptied. There were sheets folded on the couch that would be spread out to cover the furniture. The house had only been vacant for two weeks, but it already had the empty feel of a house that had been abandoned long ago.

Bella's father and his new wife's wedding picture hung on the wall beside pictures of Bella at different ages. One of the officers was taking them down and wrapping them carefully with old newspapers before placing them in a box from copier paper. There were empty boxes everywhere.

Mike didn't know what would eventually happen to the house—it would be sold, he presumed—but Bella's and her father's personal belongings were to be given to the Cullens, as her father left no other family. Angela and Jessica were in Bella's room, putting her clothes into still more boxes.

Not a word was spoken. There were people everywhere, but no one was talking, not a single word. _How could so many people be in such a small house, everyone doing something, but there not be any noise_, Mike wondered?

The house was so quiet that when the phone rang as he walked passed it, he jumped. He wasn't the only one. All movement on the first floor stopped. Everyone stood still, everyone looking at someone else, expecting someone else to answer it.

Who could possibly be calling the house phone? Why would _anyone_ call the house phone? Anyone who needed to talk to someone there would call that person's cell phone.

Mike cleared his throat. This was ridiculous, he told himself. "Probably a wrong number," he said out loud. He picked up the phone, answering, "Swan residence."

After an obvious hesitation, a man's voice spoke. "May I speak to Bella, please?"

Mike squeezed his eyes shut. Not a wrong number. But… who could be calling for Bella? Someone she knew from Phoenix, he decided. It must be. Or possibly her late stepfather's brother. _Christ, I hope it's not her dead stepfather's brother._

The man on the other end spoke again. "Hello?"

"May I…." Mike cleared his throat and tried again. "May I ask who's calling?"

"My name is Michael Masen. Bella is a friend of my family's. I've been trying to call her cell phone all week, but there has been no answer." Michael Masen's voice was quickly growing apprehensive, worried. "Is she…. Is something wrong? Is Bella OK? Is her father there? Who am I speaking to?"

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Michael Masen had a sickening feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Bella's phone had gone to voicemail all week. He'd left her a message—her birthday was coming up, he knew, as were her late mother's and step father's birthdays. And the anniversary of Edward's death was next month. He was worried about her. The whole family was. How much loss could the poor girl be expected to bear?

But she hadn't called him back.

They didn't speak often, but they did keep in touch, and it was unlike her to not return his call. Every fiber in his body was telling him something was horribly wrong. He was a logical person by nature, and he didn't panic easily. He knew on some level that it was hardly unheard of for a teenager to lose their phone, and that that would easily explain why Bella hadn't returned his message. But the moment a teenage boy answered the phone at a house were no teenage boy lived, he'd known something was wrong.

There was a long pause, too long, before the boy spoke again. "Mr. Masen, I'm very sorry to have to tell you this. There's been an accident." The boy proceeded to explain that there had been a boating accident, and that Bella, along with her father and stepmother and Bella's boyfriend, had been lost. Their bodies had yet to be found. He was a friend of Bella's from school, he explained.

Mic sank heavily into a chair, his head in his hands. Bella was gone. He couldn't believe it. First Edward, now Bella. Both only seventeen. Separated by nearly a century, but both lost suddenly at only seventeen.

After offering his condolences, Mic got off the phone as quickly as possible. He sat and stared at the wall, lost in thought for at least fifteen minutes. He felt dazed, like he was in a bad dream.

_Both lost at only seventeen. And suddenly. An illness. An accident. Both only seventeen…._

Mic knew he was going to have to call his family, but he couldn't wrap his head around it yet himself. He should have asked about a memorial service. He should go. Someone from the family should be there to represent Edward, and he was the only one who'd ever actually met Bella face-to-face.

_Are they together now?_ The thought gave Michael some peace of mind. _Was that why_…. _Because both were lost so young, with so much in front of them to live for_….

Mic went to his office and sat down at the computer to type Bella's name into a search engine to find a newspaper article about the accident. Her father had been the Chief of Police after all; there had to be news articles about the accident.

He remembered the boy on the phone—in his shock, Mic hadn't even thought to get the boy's name—had said Bella'd had a boyfriend. That had been a surprise. It was hardly fair to expect her to mourn Edward for the rest of her life—but it had been a surprise.

Still feeling like he was lost in a fog, Mic watched morosely as several hits for Bella's name came up. He sat staring at his computer. He sighed and clicked on the first link which led him to an article from the _Forks Forum_ about the accident.

He read, "..._lost in addition to Chief Swan, age 40, were his wife of three months, Tanya Swan, age 32; daughter, Isabella "Bella" Marie Swan, age 17; and Mrs. Swan's cousin, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, age 17. Edward Cullen was the adopted son of Dr. and Mrs. Carlisle Cullen_…."

Mic stopped breathing. He sat transfixed, not blinking, not moving, not breathing.

…_and Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, age 17…_

The words swam before his eyes. After he didn't know how long he typed in the name he still could not make himself believe he was really seeing, his fingers shaking so badly it took several attempts. It just wasn't possible.

He got mostly the same list of hits he had gotten when he'd searched Bella's name. He sat back and licked his dry lips before wiping his hand across his face. He needed a minute, and he took it.

Finally, he nodded his head determinedly and looked through the links on his screen. There was one for an obituary for the boy with the name he couldn't possibly have, and Michael clicked on it. The page opened slowly, one item at a time, until finally the obituary displayed. Once it did, however, Michael couldn't read it. He couldn't pull his eyes away from the small inset picture. The hair was styled differently, the clothes were different, even the eye color of the boy who had been lost in the boating accident along with Bella, her father, and stepmother was different—this boy's eyes looked to be light brown. But Mic would recognize the boy's face anywhere, even in a photograph taken nearly a century after the subject had died.

_Cullen_…._ The name of the doctor who treated them, the one who Pop said called his father to say they had died within hours of each other_…._ His name was Cullen. Wasn't it?_

Without taking his eyes from the screen, Michael reached his hand out for his cell phone, which he knew was somewhere on his desk. Searching blindly, he knocked over a half-drunk cup of cold coffee and knocked several papers onto the floor before his hand closed around his phone. Eyes still glued to the computer screen, he fumbled with the phone until he pulled his sister's number up in his contacts. When Sue answered the phone, she had to say his name three times before he could answer her. "I need you to come over here…. Yes, I'm fine…. No, I can't explain. I really, _really_ can't explain. But you need to come over here."

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Bella's fingers ran gently up and down Edward's back. She was curled up on his lap. They were sitting together on the bed in the room Kate had prepared for them. Edward's arms were wrapped around her. The snow was falling, and the scene outside their window was breathtaking. Music was playing softly. Neither one of them noticed either the view or the music. Edward and Bella had been in their little room for nearly an hour. He sat holding her close, his face buried in the curve of her neck, his lips poised, pressed against her soft, warm, delicate skin directly over her carotid artery. He was trembling. He was about to end her life, and she was running her fingers along his back soothingly to comfort _him_. Edward shook his head, his body slumped forward weakly so that Bella was now holding him. "I can't. I can't do it."

Reversing their positions, Bella's arms came around him, her face pressed against his neck. "It's alright."

There was a soft knock on the door, and Carlisle entered with an empty syringe in his hand.

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From his perch high up in a Western Hemlock, Edward sat, watching Bella over a hundred feet below. She certainly was a messy eater. He smirked as he thought to himself that the mountain lion's claws had improved the sweater she wore, all but ripping it to shreds, but then flinched as he remembered the moment of terror he'd experienced as the animal's claw had come crashing down across her shoulder, only to screech futily across it as if the animal was clawing a boulder. He was not yet accustomed to his new much more durable Bella.

Leaning forward with his elbows against his thighs, he called down to her. "Well? What did you think?"

"Ech."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Bella had awoken from her transformation not even three hours ago. Those had been unquestionably the worst sixty-eight hours, thirty-four minutes, and eighteen seconds of his life. Watching his beautiful mate writhe in agony, hearing her whimper as the fire scorched through her body, hearing her silent mental pleas for him to make it stop anytime her shield slipped and betrayed her attempt to protect him even through the slow burning torture of the venom changing every organ, every cell in her body by not giving in to the pain, not screaming out her pain until her throat was too raw to utter a sound. It was over now, but part of his mind was still back at the house deep in the Alaskan wilderness, back in their room watching helplessly while she suffered through the unimaginable burning pain and counting down those last precious beats of her heart, both praying and dreading that everyone might be the last. He was afraid that part of his mind would never leave that room.

After pushing the giant cat's carcass into a ditch nearby for the forest's scavengers to finish off after they were long gone, Bella turned, and with three graceful leaps she covered the distance between herself and the tree Edward had concealed himself in and easily scaled the hemlock.

Her last leap had been more powerful than needed, and she sailed passed him, laughing and giggling like a young child. Her hand shot out and caught a branch almost thirty feet above him, and she swung around like a trapeze artist, falling and landing on a branch slightly above his. "How did I do? Oh, my God, that was fun."

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and his shoulders shook with amusement as she leapt and swung gleefully from branch to branch, tree to tree. To say Bella was easily distracted at the moment would be something of an understatement.

He watched her indulgently. "Are you having fun, monkey?"

Bella laughed, flying and twisting gracefully through the trees. "Have you _tried_ this?"

"Focus, love."

"On what?"

"Hunting, remember?"

"Oh, right."

She swung her way back to him. "What about it?"

A strong gust of wind rustled through the forest surrounding them, causing the trees to sway, seeming to come alive and dance for them, and Bella looked around in amazement. "Oh…. Pretty."

"Bella."

She was still gazing around in wonder as the wind blew again. "Hmm?"

"Have you had enough for now or are you still thirsty?"

Her hand went to her throat questioningly. "I think I've had enough." She swayed her hips around in circles and giggled. "I feel kind of swishy." Her face fell as she saw her torn sweater, her fingers running along the ruined wool. "Oh, no!" She misjudged her own strength and ripped a piece off the side. Her eyes widened with surprise, and she held the torn fabric out to him apologetically. "I didn't mean to…."

Edward took the scrap of wool from her, dropping it to the ground, and pulled her against him. "Shhh, it's OK, love. Ask Carlisle about when I woke up sometime. The first time I tried to open a door, not only did I rip it off its hinges, but I flung it across the room and into a wall. And I do mean _into_ a wall. The door was embedded in the wall." Edward let his fingers roam across the exposed skin on her side, skin that was now the same temperature as his, the same granite as his. "You have no idea how many clothes I destroyed trying to get dressed. And I like it better this way anyway."

His fingers exploring the gentle curve of her exposed waist, Edward felt the growl vibrate through his Bella's body just before she grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him back against the trunk of the tree. His left shoulder blade hit the tree hard; her lips crashed against his bared chest as she ripped his shirt to pieces.

Edward felt the two-and-half-foot thick trunk crack against his back on impact, the loud noise shattering the still silence of the forest as the wood fibers tore and the fifty feet of tree above them leaned at an increasingly steep angle before it fell, crashing to the ground. Bella stood, staring in disbelief at the splintered trunk behind them, her hand moving very slowly to touch the jagged edges as if she was afraid of doing further damage. "I did that." Astonished blood red eyes looked up at him. "_I_ did that."

Edward smiled consolingly at her and rubbed his left shoulder where it had hit the tree. "You've got a much better story now than mine about the door."

Bella's eyes widened with alarm. "You're hurt!"

He assured her he was perfectly fine, but she spun around behind him, her fingers gently exploring the skin for herself. It was perfectly smooth. "Really, Bella. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Her fingers moved across his shoulders and down his back.

"Absolutely sure, but please, don't let that stop you."

Bella's laughter was like music—but then, it always had been. "Like that do you? How about this?" She laughed again and pinched his ass—hard.

Edward jumped and spun around, yelping with surprise. "Bella!"

Her hands roamed over him seductively. "Yes, Edward?"

"Ow. Careful, love. You're a lot stronger now remember."

Horror filled his mate's eyes, and she backed away from him. Edward pulled her back to him and hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Just… not so hard next time. Remember, you're stronger than me right now."

"I _am_…." Bella's words trailed off as her eyes drifted away, and her forehead crinkled.

Even though her thoughts were still silent to him, Edward could tell her mind was working to remember something that was there but just out of reach. "Remember? We talked about this. Your own human blood is still in your tissues. That makes you stronger. It'll last about a year."

This was something he'd promised to help her with. Remembering. It would be easier for her—people's lives today were so well documented with photographs and videos—and he was grateful for that. He wouldn't let her lose her mother twice.

Edward could see in her eyes the moment she remembered. He missed the beautiful chocolate brown of her human eyes, but even deep crimson they were stunning. They were still the fathomless pools they'd always been because she was still herself, still his Bella, and right now they were glowing mischievously. Her eyebrow curved upward and she smirked at him in the same way she always had. "Wanna arm wrestle?"

"I wouldn't even be a challenge for you, love." Edward grinned wickedly. "However, _Emmett_…."

Bella repeated the name like it was a prize to be won. "I could beat _Emmett_?"

"You could _wipe the floor _with Emmett."

"Ohhhh…. Can we go find him?"

"They'll be around eventually. Remember? He and Rosalie are with Bree, and Jacob is following her around like a lovesick puppy—literally. Jasper suggested giving you and your father time before being around another newborn and her very protective guard dog."

"My father…."

Charlie had yet to wake up, at least as of when they'd left to hunt, and Bella looked troubled.

"You'll see him soon, dearest. Do you want to hunt some more before then?"

Shaking her head no, Bella's troubled expression grew.

"What is it, love?"

"You told me I'd be stronger than you." Not understanding, Edward agreed. "But there was more. There was something else. I wanted to be something else." Bella growled in frustration. "But I can't remember _what _I wanted."

Suddenly, the mischievous glowing returned to her eyes and lit up her face. "Wanna _race_, Masen?"

"You're challenging me to a race?"

"Oh, _yeah_. Unless you're scared you'll be beaten by your wife."

Edward answered her smirking smile with one of his own. "Oh, it's _on_, Mrs. Masen-Cullen. But to be a proper race, I should get a prize when I win."

"You won't win."

"You're awfully sure of yourself. You know, I've never lost a race yet."

"I just snapped a two-and-a half foot thick tree in half like a toothpick without even trying." Bella's face turned to the picture of innocence, and her smile turned coy as she traced her finger down the middle of his chest. "Builds a girl's confidence." Bella leaned against him and whispered against his chest, "Besides, that's not the only thing you never did 'til you met me, is it?"

Edward's eyes closed as Bella's hand slid over the front of his jeans, cupping him through the denim. "Belllaaaa…," he moaned.

She hummed as his hips bucked against her hand. "Mmmmm…. Edward?"

"Hm?"

"Ready?" she asked seductively.

Edward slid his hands under the torn wool of her sweater to cup her breasts.

"Set," Bella whispered as their lips met.

"Set? What?" Edward asked, bewildered.

"GO!" Like a shot fired from a cannon, Bella was gone, leaving him standing alone on a tree branch one hundred feet off the ground, blinking stupidly in first confusion, then disbelief. He could hear her wild, mad laugh as she tore through the woods taunting him. "You can't catch me!"

"Oh, why you little—" Edward launched himself through the woods, following his underhanded, dirty trick playing wife.

With her newborn strength, Bella's speed was greater than it would be after her first year, but she was still no match for Edward. He played with her, allowing her to think she was beating him, catching up to her every ten or twelve miles and reaching out to grab hold of her only to miss by inches and fall behind. The sound of her laughter danced on the air as she enjoyed their race.

In the distance the sound of a river could be heard, the water rushing downstream, following the age-old path down through the mountain as if it wanted to be a part of their race as well. Farther away, Edward could hear the inevitable destination of the water running almost parallel to them, and he knew Bella would be able to hear it as well. Closing the distance between them once again, he called out to her.

"Can you hear the river? About five miles to the west. Follow it; it'll end at the top of a waterfall. First one to reach the falls wins."

Bella's only answer was an abrupt change of direction as she veered west—and a sudden burst of speed. For the first time, Edward began to doubt his ability to win. _Has she been playing with me? Letting me catch up to her, knowing she could let me get close and knowing she could get away?_

But Edward had meant what he'd said, he'd never lost a race yet, and he did not intend to start now.

Play time over, the race was on in earnest as husband and wife tore through the dense forest, both calling out to the other, taunting the other, both intent on being the first one to reach the falls—an eternity of bragging rights was on the line.

As the roar of the water dropping hundreds of feet from the crest grew louder, Edward closed the distance between them one last time. Gaging their speeds, he waited until Bella was within feet of the crest of the falls and certain to be sure she'd beaten him before bursting forward, grabbing her around the waist and sweeping her off her feet.

She screamed with frustration, and squirmed desperately to free herself, but Edward held her tightly—no longer needing to be careful or have any fear of hurting her.

"I told you I've never lost a race," he said, teasing her as she folded her arms and pouted. "But, I suppose," he conceded, as he carried her in his arms bridal style to the very edge of the falls before setting her down on her feet at the exact moment he stepped at edge himself, "we can call it a tie."

Glancing over the edge, Edward looked down to the deep pool formed at the base of the falls created by the incredible force of the water eroding the river bed over the centuries. He pointed it out to Bella asking, "How about a swim?" His eyes danced as the image of making love to his wife with the water crashing down on top of them formed in his mind.

Only hours old to this life, his Bella was still adjusting to her increased senses, and her eyes widened with surprise at the scent of his growing arousal. A possessive growl emanated from her in response.

Edward took her hand in his, and together, they jumped.

Splashing down into the crystal blue pool of water at the base of the falls, Edward pulled Bella directly under the never-ending cascade of water crashing down into the pool after its four-hundred foot drop, the immense force of the water pounding on top of them, creating their own private super-Jacuzzi.

After breaking the surface, it took less than a second for their lips to crash with a force that rivaled the water as it poured into their pool.

There was no need to be careful, no need to restrain himself, and Edward didn't. Hands tore away clothing in seconds. Bella's legs wrapped around his waist, and Edward entered her in one thrust. Their lovemaking while she'd been human had been extraordinary, but now that they were equal, it was a hundred times more so.

And apart from brief hunting trips, there was no reason to stop. There was no need to rest, no public façade to maintain. They could, and did, express their love for each other over and over, in all the ways Edward had imagined on their wedding night.

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Eleven years later….

"Oh, look! Hannah's got a batting helmet! She's getting put in!"

Eleven years ago, seven-year-old Hanna Masen had enthusiastically told Bella about her T-ball game as the Masen family had excitedly passed Michael's phone to each other when she'd called him, hoping to be told that Edward would recover from the influenza. The little girl Bella had heard shout out proudly to her that she'd scored a run in her T-ball game all those years ago was now all grown up and in her freshman year of college, and today it was her first game with the University of Illinois Fighting Illini, and the entire Masen family had turned out in support.

More of them, even, than those seated in the stands knew.

Edward and Bella had celebrated their tenth anniversary with an extended vacation, traveling all around the globe. The first year after Bella's change, they'd spent mostly just the two of them, avoiding contact with humans, but meeting the family—Tanya and Charlie especially—for visits every few months.

Both Bella and her father had taken to their new reality with more ease than Edward remembered experiencing himself. There had, thankfully, been no accidents, though there had been one or two close calls. Both Bella and Charlie had possessed remarkable control over their thirst from the moment they had awoken; even encountering the scent of a human hiking far off the beaten trail only days after her change had not overpowered his Bella's self-control. She'd pursued the man, but she had regained control on her own, held her breath, and turned and run in the opposite direction—something unheard of for a newborn. Several deer had met their end that day—as had the numerous trees she'd uprooted in a bloodlust induced rage—but the human who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time had never even known his life had very nearly ended.

Carlisle, ever the scientist, hypothesized that their remarkable control over their bloodlust as newborns, even in their first days, might be due to their knowing what to expect before their change and having already chosen to feed only from animals. Just like everything else about them, their refusal to feed from humans had been frozen into them during their change.

Now, having returned to North America, Edward and Bella were making their way across the continent—returning to Forks for the first time since their staged disappearance eleven years earlier. All the family were making the trip from the various places they'd settled for the time being. It was a very special occasion—it wasn't everyday a family of vampires was invited to a baby's first birthday party. Mike and Leah's first born, a son, was turning one, and greatly strengthened thanks to Jacob Black imprinting on Bree, the relationship between the Cullens and the pack had grown to the point that the whole Cullen family had been invited to a private party—shape shifters and vampires only—and no one would miss it.

But Edward and Bella had a stop to make in Chicago first. It was a dark, gloomy gray day—perfect for taking in a ball game.

From where Edward and Bella were sitting on the grass beyond the outfield fence, they could easily hear the proud parents' excitement. Only a freshman, it was a surprise that she was getting any playing time—but it was especially surprising under the circumstances. The Illini were scoreless, but they were by no means defeated. Their own defense had been on their game and had held the opposition to only one run.

They were facing the other team's star pitcher, and she had held them to only two hits through six innings and into the seventh. But she was a strike out pitcher and so had thrown a lot of pitches. She was getting tired, and the Illini coach saw that. Her control wasn't quite as good. Her fastball not quite so fast. Batters were still having very little luck, but it was taking more pitches to retire them.

Hannah, on the other hand, was fresh.

Her coach was turning to her now because Hannah had a natural eye for the ball and had developed a reputation throughout her high school career for patience at the plate. If it wasn't a strike, she didn't swing at it. If it was a strike, she did. And if she swung, she usually connected with it.

Her coach had watched the way Hannah had spent the game studying the girl on the mound—her wind up, her delivery, everything from the way the girl's eyes narrowed as she took signals from her catcher to the way she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Edward heard the coach's thoughts; he was impressed with the eighteen-year-old freshman and decided to give her a chance.

After all, no one else seemed to have the pitcher's number. And besides, he had a gut feeling.

The girl on the mound had never faced Hannah before; the other coach had never seen her before. She was an unknown to them, and the Illini coach had a feeling they'd underestimate a freshman after retiring twenty out of twenty two batters.

Bella wrapped her arm around her husband's. She still thought baseball was boring to watch, although her new strength and coordination had made it fun to actually play. "How is she?" she whispered.

"Nervous."

Before Hannah stepped out of the dugout, her coach put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a pep talk and his instructions. He wanted her to play up the inexperienced freshman image—walk out slowly, hang her head, slump her shoulders—wait for her pitch, and if she got it, swing like hell. He'd only coached her for a short while, but he already knew there was more power in those deceptively thin arms than the other team would be expecting.

Decked out in the orange and blue of the school he would have attended had the Spanish Flu never happened, Edward cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out, "Come on, Hannah! Keep your eye on the ball! Make her throw strikes!"

Bella buried her face against his shoulder and laughed.

Edward heard the thoughts of the girl on the mound. Hannah's coach's hunch had been right on target. Through narrowed eyes, the pitcher watched Hannah approach the plate, breathing a mental sigh of relief, thinking she'd be an easy out.

Hannah smirked as the first pitch, just outside, was called a ball.

Bella noted, "Oh, yeah. You're related." There was no mistaking Edward's smirk on the young woman's face.

The second pitch was low. The third was again outside, and Hannah's smirk grew as her confidence did. The count was now three and oh, and the girl on the mound was no longer underestimating Hannah. She had not walked a batter yet, and she had no intention of starting now—against a freshman no less. But she was tired, and the next pitch was a mistake. She'd intended it to be at the letters on Hannah's jersey, but it was too low. It was right over the plate and belt high, and never taking her eyes from the ball, Hannah swung hard.

Edward heard the pitcher's frustrated exclamation in her head even before the crack of the bat could be heard. Hannah's bat connected with the ball, and it sailed high and deep. Her teammates jumped to their feet as one, eyes wide and cheering loudly as the ball flew toward the outfield fence.

The spectators stood, all eyes following the ball.

The centerfielder ran with everything she had, jumping with her mitt held high and her eyes trained on the ball, but there was nothing she could do. The ball cleared her outstretched, gloved hand by several inches and sailed over the fence.

A homerun in her first college at bat, with two outs in the seventh inning, to drive in the two runs needed to take the first game of the season. The Fighting Illini fans were on their feet and cheering like they had just won the seventh game of the World Series, but none cheered louder than the Masen family—the two hidden behind that outfield fence in particular. Edward had been on his feet the instant the ball left the pitcher's hand and had caught the ball, holding it up high like a trophy and grinning like mad.

Hannah's team waited at home plate for her and jumped on her the moment her foot hit the plate.

In the stands, her family was hugging and high fiving each other and everyone around them.

As they approached, Edward and Bella watched as Hannah ran through the gate near the dugout and up into the stands to her family. Her proud father's hug lifted her from the ground when a melodious voice drew the family's attention.

The Masen clan stood routed to the ground, suddenly silent, as a young couple approached them walking hand in hand. Around them in the stands, others had started to gather things to depart, but all now stood in motionless silence, in awe of the beautiful couple. In the days that followed, an onlooker would mention to friends that it had looked as if the family had seen a ghost.

The woman smiled serenely; it was the man who spoke. It had been his hypnotic voice that had drawn their attention. "That was a great hit, Hannah. Congratulations."

The woman pressed her face adoringly against the man's arm and continued to smile at the family, who appeared to have been frozen in place. The man held his hand out to Hannah to hand her the homerun ball; it was several seconds before she reached out to take it from him.

"Th… tha… thank you," she stammered, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Her fingers grazed his as she took the ball from him; she flinched at how cold they were.

"Do we know you?" Mic's voice shook as he asked the question the whole family already knew the answer to.

Edward's lips curved upward as he shook his head slightly. "We've never met." He kissed the top of Bella's head, and her smiling face turned up toward his as his attention returned to his cousins three, four, and five generations removed. "But I believe you met my wife once before."

The couple turned to leave. As the onlookers surrounding the Masen family watched the couple walk away, the man offered the woman his arm the way they did in old, black and white movies.

The family wanted to call out to them, wanted to stop them, wanted to ask them _how_…. But, in the end, they did none of those things. Edward and Bella did not belong to their world. It was enough for them to know that, in whatever world they did belong, they were together.

Edward pressed his lips against Bella's as he heard his human family's thoughts. He'd finally come to accept what they'd realized immediately. It didn't matter if their hearts no longer beat because their hearts would go on and on….

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_The End._

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Well that's it! I hope you liked it! Sorry again it took so (sooooo) long to get the epilogue up. Thank you so much to everyone for reading, and a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed!

When Edward tells Bella, "No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you." And Bella responds, "With one exception." Those two lines of dialogue are (obviously) from Breaking Dawn Part II, which I just watched. (smiles!) I flipped it around and gave Edward Bella's line and Bella Edward's because it felt right for the scene, and I did change one word. In canon, Edward responded, "There's one exception."


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